#$10 says i end up starting a new draft today instead of working on anything LOL

[storiesofsvu]

It’s chilly & slightly rainy w chance of thunderstorms outside, I’ve got my new collection of candles burning & a cozy blanket. It’s the *perfect* recipe for writing! Let’s get some work done!



[bunny-eats-fox]

about first times

miyamura izumi warnings: jealous reader ; sex/18+/SMUT; ends in fluff wc: 3,2k an: this was a request! and while I am rather "meh" regarding them, like i do them when i like them sort of thing, i couldn't say not to his prompt! thank u 🫶 request: "Hey, okay? I don't know if you accept requests.... if so, could you write something for Miyamura, where the reader is jealous of him with Hori? (If you can write some hot stuff too... )Thanks!!"

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"I'm here"

When this notification popped up, you couldn't stop your lips from curving into a smile.

"I'll quickly finish up, I'll be down in 10! O((>ω< ))o" That's what you hastily typed before you turned back to your laptop screen.

After another 5 minutes, you had finally finished draft number three of the new contract your firm was about to conclude. It was a big responsibility for you, your biggest yet, but you were thankful for the chance, hence overtime was sometimes inevitable. Since it was 100% compensated and, thankfully, not too often you had to stay late, you didn't mind that much. Especially because your boyfriend of three years was ever so kind to pick you up then. That way you were home just a little bit earlier.

When you finally packed your bag, you hurried out of your office into the elevator. Excited for that Thursday to have ended, and thus the weekend being only one more day away, you rushed out of the elevator once it hit ground floor. 

However, the swift clicking of your heels against the tile flooring suddenly fell silent once you stopped abruptly in your track. Through the big glass windows of the lobby you saw Izumi… and his ex. 

It wasn't like you hated Hori or anything; especially since she hadn't been in contact with Miyamura for over 4 years (according to him). There was no reason for you to hide, rather the opposite. You would go out there and confidently greet her.

However, as you wanted to start walking again, you stopped when you saw your boyfriend and Hori laughing. A sting in your heart made you gulp and clutch your bag a tad bit tighter. It wasn't even the polite little laugh one did to not make such a meeting awkward, no - it was a tummy clutching hearty laughter that had Miyamura and Hori bend forwards. 

The twinge of jealousy you suddenly felt stopped you completely for a moment. You knew there wasn't a reason for you to get jealous. It was admirable to be on good terms with your ex-lover. Plus, you trusted Izumi. 

Yet, when she finally waved and left, you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Hopefully, you can quickly get over that weird tenseness that had now filled your body after you had witnessed that. 

As you finally wanted to get out of your office, you stopped once more. 

"(Y/n)-san, good work today."

"Tachibana-san!", you bowed lightly and then smiled at him, "Good work today, Tachibana-san."

Your boss, a handsome 27-year old, held you back from leaving for just a little longer. Though, as you happily told him about the progress you had made regarding the new contract, you were oblivious to the fact that the young man had put his hand on your back. Too engrossed in the conversation, you didn't realize and only when he excused himself after wishing you a good evening, you thought you had felt something slide down your back to your hips. Though, as it was gone, you didn't think about it further. 

Instead, you finally left the building after your boss and rushed to your lover.

"I'm so sorry you had to wait, Izumi!" You openly hugged him and your boyfriend immediately put his arms around you as well. 

"No, don't worry about it. You've worked hard.", he smiled and then kissed your forehead.

Everything was okay. You hoped you quickly forgot what you had seen today as you got into the car and drove back to your shared apartment.

#

After dinner and your usual night routine, you sat on your bed together with him as you moisturized your legs. Even though you were a little… miffed he didn't tell you about Hori, you hoped you didn't show it. There was no reason to get emotional about that. They just had a good laugh together, nothing more.

Though, everything went wrong when he suddenly started, "So… who was the man you were talking to?" 

"Hm?" You were honestly surprised as you looked at him in confusion.

"You know, the dark haired, good looking one before you came out.", he specified. 

"Ohh…", somehow you didn't like his tone, "That was my boss."

"Pretty young for someone leading such a big firm." Izumi didn't look at you as he rummaged through his nightstand.

"Yeah… his father died last year so he unexpectedly had to take over. He is really nice though and hard working."

The mood was, for whatever reason, a little tense.

"Hah yeah I can see he is really working hard to flirt with his subordinates."

"Excuse me?", you raised an eyebrow. 

"(Y/n), I saw you and him." Izumi finally turned to you. "His hand was on your back and he was super close, too."

You scoffed speechlessly and just looked at him as if he was the crazy one. 

"He was being friendly?" Why did you defend your boss? It was true that you had felt something, so it was Tachibana's hand? 

"Friendly?? Right, because when I am friendly I touch someone like that.", Izumi clicked his tongue and then turned around to lay down, "Whatever."

When he turned his back to you, you couldn't hold back any longer, "No, I know. When you are being friendly, you just laugh hysterically with your ex, right? Must have been a reeeally fun conversation you had with her."

Finally, Miyamura turned around again and looked at you utterly surprised.

"That's right. I saw you too. And you didn't even tell me you met Hori today." After you had desperately tried to keep your cool, it was finally over as tears sprung to your eyes. Goodness, when will you learn not to cry in conversations like these?

"So don't get all huffy now telling me my boss is flirting with me when you have the greatest fucking time with your ex just outside my damn office.", you choked on the last words a little and then threw a pillow into his face.

"Ah, (Y/n)-"

"Shut up! I'm going to sleep!", you yelled before you turned around and slipped under your warm blanket, your back facing your boyfriend.

And all Izumi could do was listen to the light sniffles and watch your trembling form underneath the blanket as he lay back himself, wondering why he was such an idiot. 

#

The next day, you and him didn't talk. Still miffed, you put on your heels before you grabbed your bag. Honestly, you would have just left without saying anything, but Izumi had something different in mind when he came to the front door. At first, you ignored him, though he didn't really care about that as he grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. For just a few seconds, you felt his soft lips on yours, leaving you speechless for a moment.

"See you later. Come home safely.", he said like all the days prior as he pushed your lunch bag into your hands.. 

"Mh…thanks, you too… Love you.", you then mumbled loud enough and quickly walked out the door, though you still heard his "Love you too" before it closed fully.

With a loudly thumping heart, you walked to the bus station, undoubtedly happy about what he did. It certainly made you realize that you would have made a grand mistake walking out the house like that. Life truly was unpredictable and leaving the house without a single goodbye or loving word was not right. Despite your little fight, Izumi still knew that.

You were so embarrassed right now for acting that childish that you were glad the bus came quickly just so could hide in a corner and truly reflect on your little quarrel.

#

When you finally were able to eat your lunch, you just wanted a quiet moment to yourself, however…

"(Y/n)-san!)", a cheerful voice called out to you and you watched your boss approaching you.

"(Y/n)-san, you didn't eat your lunch yet?", though he didn't give you a chance to answer, "So, I thought I'd ask if you'd like to join today?" Tachibana reached out his hand and squeezed your shoulder.

That's when it finally clicked: Izumi was right. Your boss was shamelessly flirting with you - and that in front of everyone too!

"I'm so sorry, Tachibana-san thank you for the invitation, but I've been looking forward to eating my boyfriend's bento since he gave it to me this morning.", you politely said with a smile, but deliberately mentioned Miyamura, hoping he would get the hint as you also politely, but firmly, pushed his hand away from your shoulder.

Tachibana's face slightly derailed, but he swiftly had his composure back as he forced a smile and nodded. 

"Of course… Then, if you'll excuse me.", he still smiled before he walked off.

Sighing, you turned back to your desk. Thankfully, your coworkers didn't say anything (to your face at least) as you opened your lunch bag. Every day, even though he had to work himself, he got up and made you a bento.

You felt the tears already, but you didn't want to cry while you stuffed your face with Miyamura's cooking.  

You felt even more horrible about what had happened. Especially because he was totally right, your boss did flirt with you and you just showed him your nasty side by being jealous. Even though you did trust Izumi, you really did. It was just… whenever you saw Hori, you got reminded of the fact that she got all of Izumi's first times. Because for you, Izumi was your first everything. You met when you were 20 and while he had experienced all those "first times" already, you hadn't even romantically held hands with someone before that. So sometimes you wondered if he didn't regret splitting with his "first love", especially because you had heard from a young age that “the first love was like no other love, it can never be forgotten” and stuff like that. Hence why it made you insecure sometimes that he would want to go back to his first love where he got to experienced all those other firsts as well…

"I have to apologize… no matter what…that was childish of me.", you mumbled to yourself once you finished your delicious lunch.

With new motivation and determination, you went back to work.

#

With a deep sigh, you got ready to finally leave the office. Even though you got off on time, the thought of using public transportation made you grumble. Usually, you might have ended up calling Izumi to pick you up, since he usually closed the shop for the day at that point, however, that wasn't an option now. Not after you left like that this morning.

Though, when you stepped out of the elevator and walked to the big front entrance, you saw a familiar silhouette through the glasses of the door and windows. Even though Tachibana came around the corner just in that moment and called for you, you didn't even realize. Too fixated, you rushed past him, your heels frantically clicking on the tile flooring as you pushed the doors open and…

Indeed, Izumi leaned against the car and waited for you. Once he looked up, a smile adorned his face and that's when you ran the last few meters just to throw yourself at him.

"I'm sorry. I was a jealous idiot and you were right about Tachib-" However, Izumi interrupted you when his hands gently tilted back your head so he could silence you with a kiss.

"I’m sorry too. I should have brought it up differently. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you about-" It was your time to silence him with a kiss, before you shook your head.

"It's fine. Really."

Then you hugged each other tightly. Izumi, nor you cared about the fact that you stood right in front of your office building and in the middle of the streets. Rather…when Miyamura just glanced into the building's direction, he saw your boss; he stood at the front windows, watching you two. It took everything in Izumi to not do anything inappropriate, so he just resumed to hugging you tighter and kissing your cute little side profile. If your boss ever touched you again, he might not have been so tame though.

#

With tangled mouths, Izumi somehow managed to open your shared apartment door so he could pull you inside in a haste. Clumsily, you both stumbled through the entrance, mouths never apart as he swiftly kicked the door close. A muffled moan escaped your lips when your boyfriend pushed you against the now closed door. Though, you didn't resist, rather, you pulled him in even closer, your tongues entwined as his hands roamed your body. 

Izumi didn't even bother to open your blazer or blouse, instead, he opened the zipper of your pencil skirt and in one motion, he pulled it down so it pooled around your ankles.  You didn't even have time to take off your pumps had he already grabbed your leg and pulled it up.

"Is it okay?", he asked breathlessly, which only elicited a small giggle from you.

"Mmn." You nodded and hummed approvingly, your hands already working on the zipper of his jeans.

That was all Izumi needed. Once his own pants and boxers pooled somewhere around his knees, he needily pushed your underwear to the side (because he really couldn't be bothered to pull it down). 

With your help, he guided his aching cock into your dripping core, eliciting moans and grunts from you both. Miyamura filled you just the right way that it made you tremble. 

"Fuck… you're so wet. It's so good.", your boyfriend grunted between gritted teeth. And you could just whimper in agreement as he started thrusting relentlessly without letting you catch your breath for a moment. 

All you could do was grab onto him as Izumi moved his hips desperately and hard, grinding against that deepest spot inside you. Your back hit the apartment door and you were pretty sure neighbors could hear your moaning, despite your efforts to muffle it by burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"Izumi!! Izum- nghhgg, d-don't…I…", you tried to get through to your boyfriend and he did stop relentlessly attacking your g-spot for a second.

"Does it hurt?", he asked in between heavy gasps holding you firmly pushed against the door. Yet, he gently kissed the side of head, his voice full of concern when he whispered, "Want me to stop?"

Though you just shook your head and hugged him even tighter (if that was even possible), "N-no it just…feels too good…my voice…will- MNGHG!", you harshly bit your lip when Izumi angled his hips a certain way to thrust deeply into you.

"You're so cute.", he whispered, though a small smirk played around his lips which made you pout. And then, he was back to burying himself over and over into your dripping pussy. The noises from your needy and desperate love-making were loud and so erotic.

Even though you were embarrassed that you stood at the front door, going at it like rabbits, there was also something inside you that didn't care if anyone would hear. Right now, all you were capable of doing was to hang onto him and let that bliss sweep you both away.

#

"Haaahhh~", you let out a blissful sigh while you relaxed against him. Even though it was pretty crammed in the small bathtub, neither of you cared.

Compared to yesterday, it was a comfortable silence as you cuddled together. As Izumi littered kisses all over your shoulder and neck, your thoughts once again drifted back to how you felt yesterday and how unnecessary that stupid fight was.

"Izumi?"

"Mmn?"

"About yesterday…I really am sorry. You know, it's not that I don't trust you. It's just.. ", you fiddled with your fingers trying to find the right words. Thankfully, he waited for you and just squeezed your thigh gently.

"It's just, uhhmm, you know, sometimes I…I get kinda jealous thinking about how Hori was your first everything and…  that she got to have that all. I just wish I could have gotten to know you sooner and experience that with you …Ahhh just saying it out loud, it sounds so stupid. I'm really sorry." You shyly moaned at the end and buried your face in your hands.

For a moment, Miyamura didn't say anything, before a gentle laugh was heard. Squeezing you just a tad bit tighter, he nuzzled his head against your own before he said, "You're seriously adorable, (Y/n)."

"Mmmnnn don't say that… I'm really stupid.", you mumbled, though Izumi shook his head with a little chuckle.

"There is really nothing to worry about, (Y/n). She might have had a few of my first times, but definitely not all of them. The first time I'm living together with someone besides my parents, is with you. I’ve also never made a bento for someone before, but I couldn’t help myself when I saw how hard you were working and I love that you always compliment my cooking, it’s my little treasure.", he giggled and kissed the back of your hands until you finally lowered them so his beautiful blue eyes could stare directly into your soul, "And there are still many firsts to come…even now…”

"Eh? Wha-?" 

Though before you could even say anything else, his hand touched your cheek and pulled you in really close before he whispered in your ear, "Aishiteru."

When Izumi rose again, the look on your face was priceless. Your beautiful eyes opened wide, mouth opened in disbelief and the sudden heat from your cheek transmitted onto the palm of his hand made his heart jump in response.

You were truly speechless for a moment, but also so incredibly happy. Hence why you just couldn’t stop the tears from blurring your vision. Without hesitation, you hugged him tightly and so suddenly that the water in the tub overflowed, though you both didn’t care when you held each other close.

And then, you returned those words.

Just like that, Izumi’s cheeks also turned a cute shade of red as he quickly buried his face in the crook of your neck. Even though he just said it himself, hearing it back from the one he loved the most was truly… exhilarating and even Izumi had to fight back those tears of happiness.

That surely was a “first time” you didn’t even think about receiving any time soon, but it only made your heart melt more, knowing that you were the first in his life to hear those special words. And it wasn’t any different for Miyamura himself, because he had felt the urge to tell you for quite a while now, but never knew when and he didn’t just want to randomly say it one day. Though, it couldn’t have been a better timing than this. Because even if there were some bad days, at the end of it, you could be sure that the love you had for each other was like no other and there were still many first he wanted to experience together with you.

__________________________

all characters canonically under 18 are always aged up in nsfw scenarios ; english is not my native language so i apologize for any mistakes ;

[imperialmask]

Homeworld Bound: Afterthoughts A Very Late Notice

Hello guys, sorry for putting this out on a Wednesday, bad form ik but i'll explain why that is.

I've been hard at work on a lot of stuff lately, in fact i'd say it was a miracle i kept HWB running weekly for 7 weeks despite the amount of pressure i got from coursework, exams, other projects im working on, my physical and my mental health but it's all finally caught up with me. You may have noticed chapter 7 was shorter and ended weirdly, that's because i didn't spend nearly enough time working on it, wanted to end it a certain way but realised that it didn't lead into anything, atleast this is the reason for the weird cliffhanger i barely followed up on.

This leaves me in a really tight predicament for Chapter 8 which is THE chapter i've been ping ponging on for awhile, it keeps swapping between 3 different ideas for what should happen that i keep forgetting which one im going with in the moment. So i've decided to do something weird since i'll be honest, i don't have a fresh chapter to give you guys today. Instead, i'm going to do a sort of part 2 to Chapter 7, it'll still be Chapter 7 but just continuing off the last line.

This isn't the only reason why i've been struggling, like i mentioned before i've been extremely busy as of late since i had 2 bits of coursework and an exam all due in on the same day as Chapter 7 (June 5th), plus i've come down with something like a cold (not sure what it is) which has been sapping any energy i have to do work on HWB. After this week, i'll be free to do work on HWB but i wouldn't be shocked if i do take a break next Wednesday (and maybe the Wednesday after that) to recoop after the extreme amount of work i've done lately. Hey, maybe i'll blow off steam with a Lyrics chapter, who knows!

So yeah, all that complaining out the way, let's talk about the content of HWB. I'd love feedback if anyone out there has any, especially on whether i should focus on being descriptive or focus on action or focus on character. I'm not 100% sure on what's the right way to go here.

Something i do want to start doing is filling chapters with 2 stories like a TV show, swapping between the 2 for a more episodic feel every chapter. It makes little sense in this format until you realise HWB ultimate goal is to be a TV show at some point, this whole series is just a first draft. A bad one, i'll say that, but a first draft none the less.

We're almost out of the woods when it comes to this boring opening arc, i'm not the happiest camper with these chapters but they'll have to do i guess. We have only about 2 more chapters until the end of this small opening before we genuinely get into London Calling and that arc, that'll last for about another 10 chapters and then we get onto full on new content. Anyway, instead of a teaser, here's a synopsis of the next 4 chapters!

Homeworld Bound Chapter 8- Alien Vs Zombie The anticipated Mick and Gas Mask Fight has finally arrived. A duel to determine the leader of Gold Squad on looked by it's members, as Mick starts to pull out all the stops to guarantee a victory, Gas Mask must find a way to get around Mick's Manipulation. Can Mick stop Gas Mask's brutal onslaught of attacks or will Gas Mask fall to Mick's constant shifting around the battlegrounds? Lets find out!

Homeworld Bound Chapter 9- Your Worst Enemy Red, a nobleman and well respected hero of Salem, and his squad mate Minos, the deadliest marksman COG has to offer, set off to stop a squad of soldiers that have broken into Salem. Meanwhile, Mega begins his training with Kip, showing him how to do magic.

Homeworld Bound Chapter 10- London Calling: Absolute At a campaign rally for the upcoming election, an assassin attempts to take Jones life. Dan chases him in pursuit to find out where he comes from. At the same time, another squad of soldiers led by a dangerous Rogue break into Reverend Bay to free the original group that was captured.

Homeworld Bound Chapter 11- London Calling: Kings and Thrones Mick and Dan head to London to meet the new King of Britannica who supposedly has information about the assassin who attempted to kill Jones. While they're there, Leech and the Salem Watch's professional scout Kate search for their own clues.

Alright, see ya!

[clarissalance]

Who has the upper hand?

Pairing: Kaeya x G/N!Reader, mention of Varka and Diluc.

Warning: Slight swearing, Kaeya is a lil shit, reader being stubborn and scheming, immense tension

Summary: You’re so terrible at swordsmanship that you can’t withstand 2 strikes from Kaeya or, are you? 

Word count: 3k5

Disclaimer: What is written in here is based on my imagination, nothing from this fic should be taken seriously. Most of the fact I put in this fic does not follow the lore of the game so it should only be taken as a grain of salt. For example: section 8 in Knight of Favonius codebook.

A/N: I struggle so much when I wrote this piece. This was suppose to be angstier but I tone down a little bit (because Kaeya was very OOC in my draft, I think he’s still a bit OOC in this fic but I tried my best ;-;, pls don’t bite me.) 

How did author write a 50k+ oneshot? I can’t write something more than 5k properly ;-; Anyhow, please enjoy this fic. I’m going to have a good rest for 2 weeks before release a comeback. Please shower Kaeya and our new MC with a lot of loves!!!! 

As a strategist of the knight of Favonius, you don't usually have enough time to finish the towers of reports, the never-ending meetings and dealing with cheap tricks Fatui diplomats. Often, you have to skip your daily sword training session, which results in a rather miserable situation. The whole practice ground is staring holes at your defeated posture. You are sitting on the hard soil ground, and the Calvary captain is towering you, his sharp blade just a few inches away from your throat. 

It is not a strange scene for any knights to lose a spar against the Calvary captain, he should be one with the best swordsmanship after Grand Master, and maybe Acting-Grand Master, too. However, as knight, they can usually withstand him at least more than 2 blows. 

Whispers and talks start to circulate around as soon as you stepped your foot in the training ground. It’s very uncommon to see people from that department wandering around this area. The strategy department is famous inside the Knight of Favonius to be the weakling-cunning-mouthy-jerks, who always find excuses after excuses to skip the monthly knight evaluation. 

So, who gives them the right to be exempt from the test? Of course, it’s from the ultimate high chief of strategy department. Rumours say before the strategy chief works for the Favonius knight, the man was once a legendary attorney. That person can flip words from black to white, turns the defendant from guilty to innocent.  With a profound convincing skillset coming from the chief, persuading the Grand Master Varka is easy as a piece of cake. The whole department of 10 people is easily off-hook for 3 years, never participate in the monthly evaluation before the man suddenly dropped the bomb 2 days ago.  

“ I’m tired from coming with excuses to cover for your lazy asses.” The man waved his hand, his eyes staring outside the window. His nails scratching the messy shaved chin.“ Varka seems to get used to navigating my thoughts-”

“Maybe time is wearing away your skill-” At the corner, someone accidentally blurted out, and the whole table gave him a sharp look. Did he have a death wish or something? If so, everyone here can happily dig him a hole, free charge for the coffin.

The chief cleared his voice again, blue eyes melancholy drifted to the table. “So, you guys have tried your best on this monthly evaluation. I hope to see you all again next month.” 

The meeting was dismissed afterwards, and everything spiralled into chaos. The whole department hasn’t touched anything aside from the parchment papers and the quills in the last 3 years. How are they going to master the swordman-ship in 2 weeks? 

But, the worst thing is,

Your well-respected, talented, and tactful chief has run away. 

The next morning, you received the news that a foxy old man is on a business trip to Fontaine with the Grand Master. The expedition is 2 weeks long.

You should have known what he meant when the deceitful man ambiguously ended his sentence like that. Nothing goes well when the chief said:  ‘Farewell, my comrades’. 

 For the last 2 days, you have been starting to familiarize yourself again with how to hold a sword and how to swing the sword. 

As you trail along with the long-forgotten memories, trying to look through the familiar feeling when swinging the sword, you hear footsteps coming in your direction. It is familiar, with the way the person is walking, the beat, the sudden burst of noise in the air, you can only conclude it’s the Calvary Captain. The practice ground seems livelier as soon as the man steps inside, people rushing to his side to give their greetings. Maybe today is one of his practice days.

 “ Never thought I would see you here.” The young man calls out, successfully jostle you up from your thoughts. You give him a complex look and turn away, focusing on the tattered dummies. Your wrist is screaming in protest, legs wobbling. You remember those golden days when you were young when you were flexible, and your bones didn't crack as much. Oh, where the golden days have gone? 

“What do I own the honour of seeing you here, captain?” You fold your arm defensively, voice monotonously. Kaeya despites the most when you start talking in an emotionless tone. Oh, how you love riling him up in the middle of the practice ground! 

“ I come here for my weekly practice, but-” He shrugs, eyes glinting with mischief. “ look like the rumour about the abolishment of special permission for the strategy department is true.” 

So he has heard the rumours. You roll your eyes, face blanks. You know Kaeya has his own way to obtain his information, but you never thought it’d be this fast. Words don’t easily leak from the strategy department. 

“What do you need? Make it short, so I can practice for the upcoming evaluation.” Tired of his long introduction, you ask him directly. If you are going to ignore him any longer, the man will continue poking you. 

Starting an argument only wastes your time, and asserting dominance in the middle of the training ground won’t boost your ego. You’re a strategist, your weapons are detailed plans and sharp word, not sword and bow. Showing off your strength in front of those ruthless knights don't improve your relationship with them. 

“ Straight the point eh?” You give him an impatiently look, tempting to ignore him again before he flashes you a smug grin. “How bout sparing with me?”  

The whole training ground falls in silence, and you direct at the captain a confusing look. Is he serious? No one in the knight except the Grand Master can go against him, not to mention someone who hasn’t touched a sword for three years. 

“I can help you with your training, and you can help with mine” Kaeya speaks with utmost confidence that you almost nod and agree. That man is really deceitful, he knows how well your skill has gone dull, yet he still wants to practice with you? What is this man plotting?  

“ Do you realize how absurd your offer is? ” You give him a complicated gaze, voice unwavering. Everyone takes in a deep breath, tension crackling. It's not everyday scenery you often encounter. A heated argument between the mischievous cavalry captain and the tactful strategist. Nosy people gather around the pair, internally hoping for the war the breaks out. 

“ You know well that I can’t properly block your first strike.” Light-hearted, you joke, but there is no hint of amusement in your voice. Sharpe eyes glaring at the blue figure, you notice the man remains unfazed. 

" Shouldn't you choose a more competent opponent?" 

The sound whispers and talking about the reasons why Kaeya picked such an easy opponent start to circulate, and you can’t help to curl your lips up. Within a  few seconds, you have effortlessly turned the gossiping direction toward your desired path. Flashing Kaeya a victorious grin, you tap your foot impatiently, waiting for his reaction.

You should have worked at PR damage control or marketing instead! The diplomat would have been fine too! At least, you wouldn’t need to practice swordman-ship.

As you mulling on your terrible choice of career, a chill runs down your spine. Tilting up, Kaeya is beaming sweetly at you, the frost slowly creeping up and nipping your shoes. Look like you just pressed the wrong button. 

The man narrows his eyes, and you gulp nervously, avoiding his calculating gaze. Kaeya chuckles, his voice laced with worry, wavering and hurtful. 

“I just want to help you improve as fast as possible. The test is coming in two weeks isn't it?” 

The whole table has turned, and people start to say how considerate and thoughtful the cavalry captain is. The crowd starts to criticize you and tell you to be more grateful and stop suspicious of his unconditional help. Oh, you wish he wasting it on you, many knights in this training ground would love getting advice and improvements from him. 

Applause for our dear Calvary captain, smoothly seeking empathy from the crowd and turning the favour back to him. No wonder how fast he climbed up the rank. 

Bantering and arguing with a person like him is meaningless, so you accept his offer and drag your sword toward his direction. Let finish this within 2 strikes. 

Moving to the centre of the field, both of you face each other, his eyes scanning you sceptically. What is this man plotting again? Bowing, you finally give him a warning look before standing at your ready position. Kaeya holds his sword, analyzing your starting posture. 

As soon as the whistle blows, you charge at the man, opening the spar with a direct hit. Kaeya quickly raises his word up to block the first blow, the sound of steel clashing loudly. He then forcefully diverts the sword to the left, a classic way to counter the strike. 

Knowing your limited strength against him, you take a step back and swiftly angle the blade downward, aiming for a weak spot at his waist. This move would create a noticeable weakness on your right, and only the idiot doesn't use this as his advantage to disarm you. 

You’re right, he uses the loophole you planned, successfully disarm you within 2 strikes. The sword slips from your hand clanging loudly behind as your foot slips and fall on the ground. 

His sharp blade is just a few inches away from your neck. The calvary captain wears a solemn look, his cerulean eyes imbued with irritation. Seems like he figures out you purposefully planed to end the match in 2 strikes. 

Quickly raising your hand in defeat, you shoot him a taunting grin. The referee declares Kaeya is the winner, and people start to clap and cheer loudly, but overall no one is surprised. As the match end, audiences start to disperse, return back to their tasks. 

Kaeya put his sword away and offers you his hand. You stare idly at the gloved hand a moment before putting yours on. The man effortlessly pulls you up, your body flush against his. With Kaeya so close to you, your first reaction is to push the man away, but his firm grip says otherwise. He inches closer, dark blue locks brush your cheek, tall figure towering you intimidating. 

“Why end it so early?” He leans down and whispers, your body tenses up visibly. “Surely, you could handle more than 2 strikes of mine.” The young man in blue hums, his voice sultry. 

“ What are you saying? I haven’t touched the sword more than 3 years.” You remind him, hands pushing his chest away, trying to create some distance. The man doesn’t budge an inch. 

“Your strikes doesn’t say so. The first strike was not bad.” Noticing your effort to push him away, Kaeya stands straight, heels dig into the ground. His lips curl up at the helplessness flashing in your eyes. He loves seeing you struggle, seeing how anxiety and desperation rising in your sparkling orbs. “I think you could at least have a decent fight with me.”  

“ Quit spouting non-sense Kaeya, let me go. We are in public.” You let out an annoyed hiss, punching his toned chest. He still wears the uniform improperly like that, the exposed tan chest can be under many layers. Sometimes you don't even know the reason why doesn't he just button the shirt up properly. Finger grazing at the bared skin on his chest, you turn your head away, cheeks heat up. 

The man loves seeing you squirming in his trap, and you’re not going to let him see that. Anything, but satisfying his masochist hobby. 

“You don’t like skin-ship?” The man fakes a gasp, his orb sparkles with mirth. “But you were being touchy with your friend. Why can't we be a bit touchy? ”  His tone suggestively, the tall man snickers at your blushing mess. Out of everything, why would he mention that? You give him stinky eyes, brows furrow deeply.  

“I’m not touchy with you.” You deny dreadfully. Archon, how long have you wasted your time here with this slithering serpent? 

Kaeya arms wrap tightly around you, your body moulds perfectly into his embrace. You hate how perfectly you fit into his hug like this, but you can’t deny how warm he is, despite the fact he wields cryo. 

“ When will you let me go?” Your voice starts to grow weak, dragging slightly in discomfort.  Kaeya curiously looks down, noticing your pouting. Sensing his gaze, you turn your head away but his fingers have quickly grabbed your cheek, forcing you to look at his deep blue eye.  

“Give me a kiss, then I'd let you go.” His voice serious, but what he just said is not. You look at the cryo wielder horrendously, mouth gaping. His face is composed and relax, like what he just ask is like asking about the weather, asking about your health, not for a kiss. Is he being serious? What in the world did he just ask? A kiss? Excuse me, a what? 

“You...you are not being serious.” You wriggle your way out, escaping from his fingers, but his embrace tightens, caging you inside. Damn it, Kaeya. He’s messing with you. 

When you flash him a furious look, the man shrugs nonchalantly, his cerulean lock fluttering gently in the wind. Suddenly, you have an urge to wipe off that calm demeanour. He can’t be serious. Why does he have to go all the way to annoy the shit out of you? 

The smug grin hanging on his face, the mischief in his blue eyes, the arching brows, everything about him screams a flirt, yet you feel so mesmerized. Blinking a few times, you have to constantly remind yourself this man is not trustworthy. From the attitude to the way he looks at you, to the way he acts around you. Nothing from his action is truthful. Like Diluc’s warning, you can only believe half of his word and action. 

“ Of course I’m being serious.” His voice solemn, but you can see the amusement in his eyes. If he doesn’t like you, why would he spend so much effort bothering you this much? What reaction is he expecting from you?  

“ I really like you, Y/N” Kaeya confesses cheerfully, and you can faintly hear a few gasps around. Not this again...

Archon, you’re going to die early at this rate. You just want to practice for the upcoming evaluation, not becoming a hot topic for all Mondstadt citizen to gossip about. 

And this man too, how can he easily slip out those words when you just heard him flirting with another woman the other day?  You already told him numerous times that you’re not interested in dating him, or anyone right now! 

Hung your head down in exhaustion, you tap his shoulder, mumbling quietly. “ Fine, fine.” You finally open your mouth, too exhausted and bothered by his stubbornness. He only wants a kiss, and you won’t hurt giving him one. Just a kiss then you can get back to your practice.  

“Just don’t confess your love to me in a crowd like this again.” Before closing the deal, you weakly add a bargain, nudging him.  

The calvary captain looks surprised, his eye widens little, not expecting you to agree. Normally, it takes another argument or two before you comply with his request. Kaeya timidly raises his gloved hand to your face, gently caresses your cheek. This time, you lean into his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, eyes glimmering softly. Despite a cryo wielder, his hand is surprisingly warm. 

The man in blue curiously peeks at you, he feels like a feather tickling the itchy spot. Are you plotting an escape route? Since when did you become so obedient? He has never seen the soft fur under the spiky façade you set up to face with the world, but strangely, he likes this version of you more. 

Noticing his relaxed stance, you carefully gently wrap your fingers around his wrist while keeping eye contact with him. Kaeya eye widens, startles at your sudden touching. Trying your best to not break the unspoken connection, you bring his hand away from your cheek. In those cerulean eyes, you see a hint of disappointment, but it quickly dissolves. Slowly, you draw closer toward the hand hanging in the air, lips fluttering on the smooth skin on his wrist. 

The calvary captain instinctively moves back, trying to escape from your sudden contact. Ironic, he is the one who innates the hug and demands a kiss from you. Tightening your grip, you press your wet lips on the exposed part of his wrist dedicatedly while maintaining eye contact with him, eyes drown with submission.

Kaeya stares at you in awe, maybe not expecting the passionate look in your eyes. His azure eye fills with mischief, now replaces with confusion and hesitation. You notice how his ears have dusted with pink despite the winds blowing in the practice ground. The man avoids your eyes, flustering. 

Whispers and gasps start to remind you of the crushing reality, so you let his hand down while grinning cheekily at the cryo wielder. Poking and breaking Kaeya meticulously façade is always something you want to try. The man is a living devil, so it’s extremely unusual to see him losing his composure. 

Sneakily, you untangle his other arm wrapping around your waist, plotting an escape route. 

However, Barbatos doesn’t let you slip away that easily. Quickly regaining his composure, Kaeya snakes his hand around your hip again, tightening his hold. Unlike the first time, the sneaky bastard lifts you up and has the audacity to throw your body on his shoulder, carry you like a sack. 

“ Yah! What are you doing?” You exclaim, fluster at his sudden antic. Kicking and punching on his shoulder, you try as many as you can, but somehow, Kaeya manages to dodge all of them.   

“ You said you will let me go when I give you a kiss!” The crowd uproars, stares and gossips poke pointedly at your back. You don’t want to hear those comments from those knights again. They're not going to let this live down, aren't they? Bury your face in the Kaeya's furry collar, you let out a frustrating sigh, punching his shoulder as hard as you can. 

“ You give me a kiss on my wrist. That doesn’t count.” Kaeya nonchalantly strides away from the practice ground, unfazed by your attempt to escape. This man is a beast, how can he not budge an inch with all of your kickings on his shoulder? 

“ You didn’t specify the place. A kiss is a kiss!” You emphasize, and you can feel his shoulder shaking. Is he laughing? “You didn’t keep your promise.” Fuels by the rising anger, you kick your leg aggressively, struggling to free yourself from the iron-clad grip. This time, his strong arm wraps around your calves like a chain.  

As soon as you raise your head up, the familiar pathway hits your memories. Shit, he is heading toward the headquarter, likely to his office. You can’t let anyone in there see you in this state. Punching his back profusely, you shot back. 

“Not fulfilling the contract is breaking the Knight of Favonius's code of cond-.” Before you can finish your sentence, the man smacks your calves loudly, successfully shutting your mouth. Speechless by his sudden punishment, you let out a disbelief breath.    

“ There are no such a section states about fulfilling contract inside the code of conduct, so stop making the rule up.” Kaeya smugly grins, and you can already picture his blue eyes glinting with mischief, the signature shit-eating grin on his handsome face.

" There is, it's in section eight-" Before you can finish your sentence, Kaeya cuts in, waving his hand dismissively. 

" Section eight is about interaction with your co-worker, there is none about keeping contracts." The calvary captain humming, trying to recalling the content of the book. Speechless by the detailed memories of his, you can only close your mouth, quietly waiting for him to drop you down. If you stay still on his shoulder, will he let you go? 

" You know, not everyone reads and memories the knight of Favonius handbook, you are just unlucky that I know the book by heart." Seeing you deflate weakly on his shoulder, Kaeya lets out a chuckle, patting your head comforting.       

Before heading inside the HQ, the man doesn't drop your down but leans in closely, his whisper tickling your ear. “But at least I had fun seeing you squirming in my grasp.” 

And then it hits you, the bastard purposely falls for of your antic. 

[reidingmelodies]

Dinos and Tigers and Donuts, Oh My!

Summary: Spencer wanted one thing this year: for your kids to plan his perfect Father’s Day Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Includes: dad!Spencer, heavy mentions of Father’s Day, mentions and consumption of food Category: Fluff Word Count: 2.6k A/N: This isn’t my favorite, but it’s been sitting in my drafts for awhile all the same! Happy Sunday ♥️

 When Spencer was called away on cases your house seemed to lose a bit of its charm.  Mornings felt more tiring than ever before, the afternoon slumps dragged on for what seemed like years, and dinners, even with babbling five and seven-year-olds at your side, were a little too quiet.

This time around though, things were different.  You woke up to your five-year-old daughter sitting by your feet, her mind preoccupied by one of the search and find books Spencer had bought her the week prior.

The space next to you was empty, a piece of paper lying where your husband previously was, and you knew exactly what it was going to say before you even picked it up.

Good morning, love,

I got called on a case this morning, but it’s local and the team thinks we can wrap it up by tonight.  The kids both ate breakfast- and PSA that they were a little too excited I was going to be gone for the day.  I don’t know what they’re planning, but good luck.  I love you, and I’ll see you soon.

-Spencer

Unlike Spencer, you knew exactly what the kids were excited for, and it had everything to do with Father’s Day being tomorrow- you just hoped he would be home in time to celebrate like he predicted.

You folded the letter and placed it in your nightstand along with the others you’ve found gracing his pillow in years past when your bedroom door opened just the slightest amount.

In walked your seven-year-old son, comically exaggerating his tip toe motions as he stage whispered to his sister.  

“Is Mommy still sleeping?” He shifted his gaze in your direction, all effort to keep quiet out the window when he saw your eyes meet his.

“Mom! Guess what?” you opened your mouth to respond, but your daughter beat you to the punch.

“Daddy left for a work trip this morning!  So, we can make our plan today while he isn’t here!”

There was no denying that your kids loved their daddy, that was for sure.

“That’s so great!” you matched their enthusiasm with ease, getting ready for the day while they kept brainstorming in the background.  

Just last week, you had asked Spencer what he wanted to do for Father’s Day over dinner, and the children were as attentive as ever, eyes wide and lips pursed as they waited to hear the plans for the big day.

But, to their amusement, Spencer’s only plan was that they plan the entire day.  His reasoning was that they were the reason he was a dad so they should be the ones to decide what to do, but really you knew the truth was that he overheard their whispers about having the perfect plan for his day.

A plan you were finally going to be let in on, so it seemed.

The three of you made your way down to the kitchen where you settled down with your breakfast, eyebrows raised in enjoyment at your children.  They were sat across from you with a stash of markers and fresh index cards, and they had a few stacks of previously filled out index cards resting along the center of the table.

Ah- so that’s where they’re going with this.

It had become a bit of a family tradition to have a family scavenger hunt whenever you had a full weekend together.  You and Spencer were all too familiar with the concept of cherishing the time you have with your loved ones, and there were many a weekend where Spencer was called away, or you were busy with a million other plans ranging from extended family gatherings to birthday parties or weddings.

It was all the more reason to make the moments where it was just the four of you count even more- and thus, family scavenger hunts were born.

When they were toddlers, the scavenger hunts centered around finding certain shapes or colors, be it in the house or at the park.  Once every item was checked off you would have a family outing of their choice: the go to choice used to be another trip to the park (the one with the ‘fancier’ slides this time), but with the upgrade to slightly harder scavenger hunts centered on science and math they’ve upped their prize to ice cream.

What could you say? They were Spencer’s kids through and through.

“Wow!” you exclaimed, relishing in the beaming smiles on their faces, “do you guys want to make a scavenger hunt for daddy?”

Two enthusiastic faces nodded eagerly in your direction as your son grabbed one of the red markers.

“Yes! And we can have dino pancakes in the morning and get donuts after our scavenger hunt at the zoo- all of daddy’s favorite things!”

Dino pancakes were a Sunday morning staple in your home- you would use a cookie cutter to cut out a dinosaur shaped pancake, and the kids would eat those while you and Spencer would eat the ones with the dinosaur outline in them (and a few regular ones for good measure).  But donuts instead of ice cream?  That was new.

“That’s a great idea, I’m so proud of you guys for working together to plan this,” you praised, “but why donuts?”

Your daughter peered up from the index card she was drawing flowers on to answer your question, “because they’re daddy’s favorite and it’s daddy’s day!”

“And for our scavenger hunt we want all the animals to spell out ‘best dad ever’,” your son tacked on at the end, already beginning the task of writing numbers and circling them on the front of the card.

That was another newfound tradition for your family.  Now that the kids were learning to read, the two of you would try to have the first letter of each answer spell out a certain word or phrase.  Sometimes, it would be something like ‘I love you’ or ‘hello’, other times it would be the name of a special someone that would be joining you for ice cream afterwards (so far ‘Aunt Penny’ and ‘Uncle D’ were their favorite ones to come across).

You grinned once more, moving to grab your laptop and pulling the Smithsonian’s National Zoo site up to look at their list of animals.

“Alright, my loves- let’s do this”.

***

Three hours, eleven index cards, one snack break, and two very patient children later, your scavenger hunt was finished, index cards clipped and ready to go for the following morning.

Each index card had blank slots, the number of which corresponded to the name of the animal, on the front of the card with three fun facts written on the back.  In retrospect, Spencer wouldn’t even need the slots (or more than one fun fact, to be fair), but you knew he’d make a show of trying to think of each and every animal tomorrow afternoon.

Yet another reason you loved him.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, all of your energy going into spending time with your kids. But once they went to bed, that energy was refocused into prepping for tomorrow to take your mind off the fact that it was nearing 10 PM and your husband wasn’t there.

You couldn’t bear to think of your kids disappointment if he didn’t make it home that night.

Outfits out and pancakes ready to be made, you made your way to the couch when the clock struck 11:30 PM, ready to settle in for a movie while you awaited his return but there was no need- as you walked into the room your husband made his way through the front door.  He looked as exhausted as ever, but the glimmer in his eyes proclaimed what you knew to be true.

He was happy to be home.

***

7 AM the next morning found you face to face with two wide eyed children gently shaking you awake, joy radiating from them as they saw that their father was fast asleep next to you.

With much persuasion in the form of puppy dog eyes, you made your way out of bed and into the kitchen to start the first task of the day: dino pancakes.  

Your little helpers set the table and brought Spencer’s gifts from the coat closet and into the dining room in the meantime, and as you placed the last pancake on a plate two arms wrapped around you and pulled you back tightly.

“Good morning, darling,” his raspy morning voice brought a soft smile to your face, and you leaned your head back to kiss his lips in greeting.

“Happy Father’s Day, Spence,” you laid another kiss against his lips, pulling back as the patter of little feet made their way into the kitchen.

“Daddy!  Happy Father’s Day!”

“Daddy!  Come see your gifts and eat pancakes!”

Two little voices fought for the spotlight, and Spencer kneeled to the ground to wrap the both of them in a hug.  You laughed at the scene, watching as they squeezed him just as hard before grabbing onto his arm and leading him to the dining room table.

“C’mon, Dad,” your son pulled his chair out and pushed his gifts closer to his seat, “let’s eat and open gifts!”

“Gifts?  You guys know I don’t want anything,” his brows furrowed as he looked at you, but you shrugged your eyes and took a bite of your pancakes in response.

“You always say that,” you rightly claimed, “and we always buy you gifts anyway- it’s practically tradition”.

You had a point, there.

Breakfast passed by in a blur of conversation, dad jokes, and present unwrapping.  And just like that, Spencer was the owner of new books to pass his time on the jet, a 5k puzzle you were sure he’d solve in an hour flat, and a homemade Father’s Day shirt with your children’s handprints decorating a globe, the words ’Best Dad in the WORLD!!!’ gracing the blank space.

His eyes sparkled when he saw the shirt, and you swore you’ve never been happier to call that man your husband and the father of your children.

Granted, that thought passed your mind no less than fifteen times a day, but still.

Within the hour, the four of you were out the door and on the way to the zoo, Spencer’s Father’s Day shirt proudly on display.

You drove with a grin, the radio turned off in favor of listening to your children explain today’s scavenger hunt to Spencer.  They were practically giving a word for word verbatim of what the two of you usually told them pre-scavenger hunt, all the more proof that your kids were sponges.

An equally exciting yet terrifying thought.

You were at the zoo within half an hour, your hand intertwined with your son’s while your daughter latched onto her father, everyone eager to start the scavenger hunt.

“Alright, guys,” Spencer began, “what’s our first clue?”

“Mommy can read it!” your daughter piped up and you nodded, grabbing the small pile from her hands before reading the first card of the day.

“Okay, so!  This animal has six letters in its name, and your three fun facts are: whiskers help this animal detect objects around them which helps them navigate the dark, they’re the largest rodents in North America, and when they’re in danger they slap their tail on the surface of the water” you finished your explanation and watched as Spencer’s eyes lit up in recognition, but just as you predicted he dragged the process out instead of guessing right away.

“Hm, it sounds like we should go to the rodent exhibit first!” He proclaimed, and your kids nodded, walking in a row like little ducklings to the exhibit.

The four of you took your time looking at each of the animals, until you came face to face with the animal in question.  “Aha! I think the animal we’re looking for is a beaver,” his answer was met with cheers from both of your children, and you wrote the answer in the blank slots before continuing with the hunt.

At the end of the hour you added an electric eel, sloth bear, tiger, dama gazelle, alpaca, and degu to the list.  Eight animals down, four to go.

Which was fantastic, considering that your kids were starting to get antsy for donuts.

“Okay, guys!  Are we ready for our next animal?” You were walking hand in hand with Spencer, your kids skipping directly in front of you and eagerly shouting in affirmation at your question.

The four of you stepped to the side, and you grabbed hold of the fourth to last index card before reciting the hints.

“Alright so!  This animal is two words, seven letters in the first word and seven in the second.  They have whiskers that look like mustaches, they’re native to the southwest Amazon Basin, and they have claws on each of their toes but the big one”.

“Hmm.. I don’t know guys, what do you think?” Spencer turned to your children, smiling wide when your son giggled in response.

“We can’t tell you, Dad! It’s a secret”.

Spencer laughed, sighing in defeat as your daughter gestured for him to come closer.  He did as asked, leaning down until she able to reach his ear, “I think we should go to the monkey exhibit!”

Her not so quiet whisper brought a smile to both yours and Spencer’s faces, and a grimace to your son’s but to the monkeys you went, where you came face to face with an Emperor Tamarin.

From there you crossed a Von der Decken’s Hornbill and an Eld’s Deer off your list until you had one animal left.

“Alright, my love- last one! This animal is two words, three letters in the first one and five in the second.  They mainly eat bamboo, their fur acts like a camouflage when they climb in trees, and they live in temperate forests in the Himalayas,” you finished your spiel with a quick eyebrow raise towards your children, both of which were not so discreetly pointing at the red panda exhibit just a few feet away.

“Is it a red panda?” Spencer asked, giving both your kids high fives when they jumped up and down in excitement.

“Yay Daddy, you got it! And guess what all of the first letters spell? Best dad ever!” your daughter jumped into his arms and Spencer chuckled, spinning her around and laying a gentle kiss on her head.

“Is that so?” he asked, “you three are too nice to me”.

Truthfully, you didn’t think it was possible to be too nice to Spencer.

“How about our last surprise for Daddy now, my loves?” your question was met with enthusiasm from your little family, and you were back in your car and on your way to Spencer’s favorite bakery in ten minutes flat.

As you pulled up to the bakery, two eager children and one extremely happy father made plans as to what donuts they were going to eat.

It was decided that Spencer would get a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles, your son would get a glazed donut, and your daughter would get jelly.

And you? You had every intention to get your favorite too, but above all you were just happy that another amazing Father’s Day was in the books for Spencer.

The seventh of many.

***

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[immaturityofthomasastruc]

#10: Felix, Part 1: Introduction

Well, here we are. This is the big one.

This is what I consider be the worst episode of Miraculous Ladybug, because it is a complete microcosm of everything wrong with the show. Poor romance shenanigans, cheap recycling of past characters, Adrien and Gabriel whining about the loss of their mom/wife, and all of it driven by Astruc trying to push his agenda against a fictional character that he created. Well, sort of. Yeah, rather than talk about the episode itself, I want to to over the history of the character it's focusing on first, because you need to know to understand how insulting this episode is.

For those who don't know, one of the earlier drafts for Miraculous Ladybug gave it an anime-esque style as opposed to the CGI animation we got today. The dynamic between the characters who would become Marinette and Adrien was a lot different. Instead, the crush Marinette had on “Adrien” was much more blatant, with “Adrien” verbally turning down Marinette's advances instead of simply being oblivious to her crush.

Likewise, Ladybug and Cat Noir's dynamic was different than the final project. Instead of creation and destruction, Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculous has the powers of good and bad fortune respectively. Naturally, Cat Noir didn't want to wear a walking bad luck magnet, so his pursuits of Ladybug were motivated to get a kiss from the heroine so he can remove the ring, which he can't unless he gets said kiss.

The short preview is referred to by the Miraculous fandom as the PV, and has become the subject of several fanfics and AU's using the characters featured. While Marinette's counterpart was named Bridgette by the fans, Astruc officially named Adrien's counterpart Felix on Twitter. They're both like OC's shared by the fandom and are still popular to this day.

And ever since the official show started airing, Astruc had several opinions on Felix as a character. At one point, he said that even if he wasn't fit to be a main character, Felix was still an interesting character.

And then a month later, he said he wasn't an interesting character.

And then almost a year later, he said his dynamic with Marinette wouldn't work at all because Felix is a “weak character with cliché psychology”.

And a few weeks before the episode I'll be talking about aired, he said that Felix was flat-out evil.

Way to be consistent, Astruc.

Whenever someone asks about the PV, Astruc usually responds with scorn, saying how much he feels it wouldn't work like what we have now. I understand why Astruc doesn't like to talk about the PV, as nobody ever looks back fondly on their rough draft, but he always acts so negatively around PV fans as if they said they think Chloe isn't evil incarnate.

Yeah, about that last one...

Now, remember at the end of my “Animaestro” post, where I said I had a huge tangent saved for a later post, specifically on the footage used for the Ladybug movie?

Yes, despite saying how much he hated the PV, its artstyle, and the supposedly darker tone it was planning to take for years, he used footage of the PV for the in-universe Ladybug movie and framed his self-insert in “Animaestro” as being proud of his work that he supposedly spent three years on. There is no way that Astruc actually meant what he said in that episode all about his work, and the only reason he even touched the PV was so the animators didn't have to animate anything new for the movie footage.

Astruc, you really think you can claim that you actually like the PV after years of insulting anyone who brought up? Because after watching “Felix”, I don't think you're being honest here. You hate anyone who even mentions the PV because you see it as Miraculous Ladybug's awkward puberty phase. We're all embarrassed of the past, and we try to forget it, but it's not like someone mentioned an old girlfriend you had a bad breakup with. It's a simple animated short that shows a different way Miraculous Ladybug could have turned out. I have never heard of a creator who hates his own work like you do, Astruc.

As usual, I get that he doesn't like it, but Astruc just has to act like a jerk to anyone who brings up the PV because he didn't like it, yet is more than willing to take credit for it so he can look good.

So yeah, now that I've gotten that out of the way, I'm finally going to talk about “Felix” in my next post. Please pray for me as I try to explain how awful this episode really is.

Here’s Part 2

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian fic “Always and Forever” Chapter 3

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3.

Chapter 3 (4753 words)

Kurt stares out his studio window at the neighborhood below. It’s 10:15 a.m. and a Tuesday, so it isn’t as if the place is teeming with activity. Everyone living on Colony Lane seems content to stick to their own spaces, abide by their own schedules, and go about their lives without much interference from the world outside.

Kurt hates to hand it to Sebastian, but that’s what he wants as well. Isolation in a quaint fixer-upper is precisely what he needs.

Another point for Sebastian. 

Damn. 

He seems to be racking them up lately, while Kurt…

Kurt can admit that he’s not trying as hard as he should be, but he’s giving himself permission to be selfish. There shouldn’t be a timetable for bouncing back from loss, and Kurt got the double-whammy. 

Sebastian gave him betrayal to get over, too. 

Kurt knows that he should deem repairing his marriage a priority, but he also needs to do what’s right for him. 

He hasn’t figured out what that is yet, but it'll come to him.

Underlying childhood guilt has him believing that he should introduce himself to the neighbors. Etiquette and all that. It’s what his mother would do. Every time his family moved, and there had been a handful of times, Kurt’s mother would bake a batch of cookies for the neighbors. She'd put a baker's dozen into colorful cellophane bags, tie the tops with curled ribbon, and take them door to door to say hello. She wouldn’t wait for people to show up on their doorstep with a casserole and a smile. She believed in being proactive. She would tell him, “New neighborhood, new life. Go out and be a part of it.”

But Kurt doesn’t want to, and the neighbors seem fine with that. 

It’s been three days, and Kurt and Sebastian have only gotten one visitor – the technician who came to fix the heating. Of course, the neighbors could be waiting for them to get settled. Then they’ll pounce over with perfectly iced Gingerbread Bundt cakes and Chicken Kievs, church invites, and Girl Scout cookie order forms, like a swarm of Stepford Wives. 

Kurt doesn’t care about being proactive, and his mother isn’t around to scold him for behaving like a hermit. 

That may sound harsh, but it's true. 

The clouds pulling together in the sky overhead, threatening rain, give Kurt an excuse to shut himself away and work on the house - an excuse he can ply without the assistance of a tragic backstory. With his laptop open on the floor in front of him, he browses those websites that feed his design fetishes: Ethan Allen, Neiman Marcus, Anthropologie. 

But he's not the least bit inspired. 

He’d decided to start small, take things room by room instead of attacking everything at once. But he gets stumped, staring at the screen in front of him, unsure whether the chair he’s been mulling over for the past half hour is gorgeous or gaudy. 

He should focus on bringing the living room together since it’s where they do the bulk of their entertaining, provided they ever start entertaining again. And he should do something about the master bedroom, which, for the moment, houses a bed, a TV, and a dresser within the confines of four ashy walls. 

Opinions on the topic vary, but Kurt has always felt that the bedrooms are the heart of the home. They’re sanctuaries where dreaming, planning, and affirmation happen. He only has the one to worry about, so he should put extra effort into making it comforting, relaxing, sensual on the off chance he ever plans on touching his husband again.

The jury is still out on that one, unfortunately. 

The kitchen, he’s not looking forward to decorating. Aside from his studio, he and Grace spent much of their time together in the kitchen. They baked daily: cakes, cookies, bread, and anything else they could slop onto a baking sheet and shove into the oven. They also made jam, pickled fruit, and taught themselves (using YouTube videos mainly) to prepare various types of cuisine. Some were a hit, others a miss, but it was always an adventure. 

Kurt had done something similar with his mother and her collection of vintage cookbooks, congregating around the kitchen island in the afternoons to shed the angst of public school, and spread the wings of his stifled creativity. He and his mother discussed everything in the kitchen while sifting flour and creaming butter. It was a tradition he had so looked forward to continuing. 

Now, he’d rather not be bothered going into the kitchen again.

He could pick a page out of the IKEA catalog and recreate it. That should offend him. It did when Sebastian suggested it the first time Kurt redecorated their penthouse. But Kurt hardly cares. It doesn’t matter as much as it did. He can’t remember the last time he stepped into the kitchen and prepared anything more elaborate than toast and coffee, maybe dry scrambled eggs. Sebastian took over cooking duties after Grace died, which, nine times out of ten, means ordering out, if for no other reason than he gets to leave the house to pick up the food.

He knows Kurt appreciates the time alone more than he does a home-cooked meal.

Then there’s Sebastian’s office, which Kurt is decorating for the first time. He has tried to start a shopping cart for it numerous times, but, unlike the windfall of ideas he had for his studio, he can’t get into a groove. He remembers a time when thinking about decorating Sebastian’s office put a hundred ideas into his head. 

Currently, he has only one.

The cheap, vomit-worthy, knock-off furnishings of the no-tell hotel room he pictures whenever he thinks of Sebastian sleeping with another man. 

Kurt shivers in disgust. He wouldn't wish that on his worst enemy. 

The room or the infidelity.

But how would Sebastian react if Kurt decorated his office to look like the business suite at the Marriott?

Kurt snickers, envisioning the sitcom-worthy shock that would erupt on Sebastian's face if he presented that to him.

"As you can see," Kurt would say, strolling through the room with his head held high atop the straightest spine pettiness can deliver, "I have chosen the most flame-retardant carpet available in subtle hues of tan and beige, a color combination well suited for concealing cum stains. This ergonomic, curved leather loveseat, for when you want to get adventurous with your afternoon romps, which, at your age, requires plenty of lumbar support. Plus, it cleans up in a snap with just a Clorox wipe, so that's a useful feature. Faux fireplace, faux aquarium, faux chandelier... are we sensing a theme? And in the corner, I've provided you a foldout of your own, for when you bring... ahem... work home."

The grin on Kurt's lips slides when Sebastian, wearing a gutted expression, pops to mind. It's an expression that Kurt didn't believe possible for Sebastian till their daughter died. He's only seen it once. He doesn't want to bring it back.

He sighs. 

Revenge-dreaming isn't helping. 

It isn't as satisfying as he thought it would be.

He’s not breaking through his creative block anytime soon. He puts his plans for the other rooms on the back burner and decides to spend time picking out furniture for his studio. With the exception of his sewing machines, he didn’t bring anything from his penthouse studio here, so he’s starting over fresh. He switches tabs and starts filling his online shopping cart with the basics: a new drafting table, a cabinet, a chair he’ll have to custom-upholster, a bolt of drapery fabric he can repurpose to make a bedspread (if he goes through with his plans for a foldout), and a few other miscellaneous odds and ends, nothing worth wasting too much brain-power over.

The clunk-clunk of Sebastian stacking cans in the kitchen cabinets reaches Kurt upstairs, as does the water running in the sink while he washes dishes and the squeak of the sticky pantry door when he fixes it. Kurt plans on redoing the kitchen and giving the entire room a facelift. Sebastian knows that. But repairing the door gives Sebastian something to do.

Sebastian has been considerate enough to let Kurt do his thing undisturbed for the morning. Kurt’s reluctance to talk to anyone extends to Sebastian, which Sebastian understands. He’s keeping his distance. But it’s nice to hear him puttering around the house. It gives Kurt comfort, the same way listening to his father snore in the middle of the night helped Kurt feel less alone after his mother died.

He may want to be left alone, but it’s nice to know that he’s not alone.

Especially not today.

Today did not start out good for Kurt.

Kurt woke up later than he’d intended, and when he did, he couldn’t remember where he was. Sebastian had woken up and gotten out of bed hours earlier, leaving Kurt alone to sleep in. Kurt climbed out of bed and wandered around frightened, hands crawling along the walls, searching for something familiar. Footsteps passed somewhere underneath him, and he froze. He didn’t want to venture downstairs because he didn’t know who could be there. Maybe someone had broken in, or worse - this was somebody else’s house, and Kurt was the intruder. 

His heart raced. He started hyperventilating. He went from room to room, trying to figure out where he was and why he was there. It wasn’t until the second time he went into his studio that he began to remember. He saw his bag on the floor and, beside it, his sketchbook. He remembered sitting in there the day before, making plans. He remembered the wood grain of the floor, the dusty glass, the tree outside, the wallpaper, and that ripped corner by the window, which Kurt refuses to acknowledge any more than he has to.

He feels it behind him, like the sun on his back, trying to get him to turn his face to it, but he refuses. Of all the things he needs to deal with, that ripped corner and the word beneath it don’t make the list. It isn't doing the palpitations in his chest any favors.

It confuses him. 

It angers him. 

It saddens him.

It makes him consider what could have been, forces him to face everything he's lost. He didn't succeed in running away from his problems. He ran headlong into brand new ones.

But this is his house. He has to get used to it.

These episodes aren’t uncommon. They crop up whenever Kurt needs to adapt to change. They’re unexpected, like mines in fields he discovers he’s been running through when a second ago he was picking flowers in the park or strolling down the street.

It's their unpredictability that is the true torture. 

They show up even on his good days.

His life for the last ten years revolved around his daughter. When she was a baby, he adjusted his work schedule to match her sleep schedule. They had the money to afford the best nurses in New York, but Kurt didn’t want that. He didn’t want his daughter raised by a governess. He was as hands-on a parent as there ever was. 

As Grace grew, her schedule changed, and Kurt adjusted: daycare, Gymboree, kindergarten, ballet, elementary school. He dropped her off in the mornings, then picked her up in the afternoons. They spent the rest of the day going over her homework until it was time to make dinner, which they did together. 

That was the great thing about being a designer and freelance editor. Kurt could work from anywhere, and, aside from doing consultations at Vogue, he could work any time. 

When Grace became sick, her doctor visits and her medication regimen dictated Kurt's schedule, then her chemo.

Towards the end, there was only one item written in Kurt’s schedule - lie beside his daughter in her bed, holding on to her for dear life. 

And not just her life.

His, too.

In sickness and in health, Grace kept Kurt’s life regulated. 

Things flipped drastically when she died. 

He felt adrift. Detached from the life he had gotten used to, he didn’t know what to latch on to. His internal clock would wake him up at six to get Grace ready for the day, only to find himself walking into a vacant bedroom. At the supermarket, he would grab her favorite cereal out of habit and put it in his cart, even though it wasn’t on the list. He would jolt when he'd come across a song he thought she’d like or saw an advertisement for a movie he thought she’d enjoy. 

He has yet to stop the automatic deposits from his bank account to hers, her weekly allowance piling up on top of birthday and Christmas money. She had earmarked it for college (her decision, not his). Now it waits to be donated to the children’s hospital that took such incredible care of her. He doesn’t have the heart to empty it. She was so proud of it.

He doesn’t know what it will do to him to see the balance at zero.

But the worst moment of all, the absolute worst, was when he tried to go back to work right after they lost her. 

There are many moments after Grace’s death, during Kurt’s own struggle for acceptance, that blur together, but this one he remembers so vividly, it brings a lump to his throat and tears to his eyes. 

He was in the middle of a brainstorming session with his team. His boss Isabelle was there. She had dropped by with a box of cronuts and a grande nonfat mocha. Kurt hadn’t been eating. Everyone could tell. But Kurt overlooked the signs – the sharper than normal angle to his cheekbones and chin, his collarbone that showed through his skin a little too much, his hands that never stopped shaking. He had waved the food away when she offered. 

An hour later, he was on his third one.

The tension of his presence in the office so soon after his daughter’s death slowly dissipated, making way for the familiar, though attenuated, back and forth banter he had so missed. Without knowing it, he was paving the way for a potential comeback. He wouldn’t have a line up for a while, and he would need to keep an eye on fashion trends as they came and went in his absence. But this, this felt so natural, so normal, it almost seemed like it was. He got caught up in the rhythm of this impromptu jam session. He smiled, he laughed.

He felt alive again.

Somewhere in the middle of outlining a rough schedule, he glanced down at the time on his phone. Mid-sentence, he got up from his chair and walked over to get his coat off the hook by the door.

“Alright,” he said with a chuckle over Chase’s last clap back at a jab from his boyfriend Ian, “thanks for everything, you guys, but I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk about this more when I come in tomorrow.”

The room went pin-drop silent. Kurt didn’t notice.

“Where are you going?” Isabelle asked, getting up from her seat on the corner of his desk and approaching, knowing that he would need her in a second, the way she always knew. Kurt has referred to Isabelle as his Fairy Godmother ever since he first walked into Vogue fresh out of high school and trying to find a foothold in the hectic Gulf Stream that is New York City. She became his pillar of support, a sympathetic ear, and a clear head whenever he needed one. She had thrown his bachelor party. Hers was the condo he stayed in the night before his wedding. She’d hosted Grace’s baby shower.

Also, Grace’s wake.

She didn’t have children of her own and didn't plan on it, but she loved Grace as much as anyone.

And hers was the shoulder Kurt cried on when he found out Sebastian had cheated. 

Kurt looked at her, confused, wondering why it was that everyone around him seemed to be holding their breath. “I just… have to go pick up Grace. From school. I’m going… I’m going to be late.”

Isabelle shook her head and put a hand on his. “Sweetie… ”

It took Kurt a second. 

Even after one person gasped and another sniffled, with Isabelle’s sorrowful eyes staring at him, begging him to remember so she wouldn’t have to say it, he didn’t catch on.

When he did, it hit him like an electric shock straight through his body, rendering his muscles useless, and he crumbled to the floor. Isabelle held him for over an hour in that spot until Sebastian arrived. Kurt didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to go to their empty penthouse and face the truth about his empty life. He wanted to stay at Vogue with Isabelle and live in that moment where everything was alright again for one shimmering second, even if it wasn’t real.

But he had to go. He had to leave with Sebastian, who had hurt him, back to his home, even if it killed him because even though he felt like his life was over, everything else continued on. People lived, and people died. The sun set in the evening, but in the morning, it would rise again.

He just didn’t want to be a part of it anymore. 

Not without his Grace.

He was cried out by the time Sebastian got him home. Sebastian undressed him, helped him with his cleaning and moisturizing routine, and then put him to bed. It was Friday evening when Kurt shut his eyes and went to sleep. He lived that horrible moment at his office over again a hundred times before he opened his eyes. And when he did, it was Sunday morning.

Like this morning, but to a greater extent, when these attacks happen, locked in his own brain, sifting through the pieces to find one big enough and sturdy enough to hold on to, Kurt loses time.

In a blink, hours go by, sometimes a day. He’ll climb in the shower in the morning, turn the water on hot, and by the time he realizes it’s cold, it’s close to noon. He has sat at the dining room table for breakfast, staring at a bowl of oatmeal, and when he found the will to pick up the spoon, the oatmeal was old and stiff, and it was dinner time. He’s gone to bed on Monday and stared at the black behind his eyelids till Wednesday. 

As far as Kurt knows, it’s only around lunchtime, but he glances at the clock in the corner of his screen to make sure. 

12:45.

He breathes a sigh of relief. He double-checks the date to make sure he has a reason to and sighs again.

Still Tuesday.

Kurt switches back to the IKEA tab he’d been laboring long but not hard on earlier. He looks at the shopping cart he’s been steadily filling, scrolls through his selections of personality bereft, assembly line furniture, and groans. This isn’t him. This house, this blank slate, should be an endless fount of motivation. 

But he's numb. 

Maybe he's rushing into this. He should give this house and the neighborhood time to grow on him before he sentences it to the mundane.

He needs a break. (Kurt Hummel need a break from shopping? Since when?) He flips to a new page in his sketchbook. For shits and giggles, he tries drawing a sketch for his husband’s office. He starts with the easy part – Sebastian’s desk. Sebastian didn’t leave that in the penthouse, so Kurt will make it the linchpin and design around it.

Things flow surprisingly easily from there once he gets started, with a pencil in his hand writing on paper instead of working on a screen: an ornamental rug, a matching leather chair, burgundy velvet curtains, a chainmail style Tiffany desk lamp, 1930s art deco décor with a soupcon of Persian flair. But he doesn’t want the room to be too dark. No. Kurt wants nothing in their house to be dark. He adds a Salento chandelier over the open portion of the room and a sweep of color – one wall, opposite a window, a lighter shade than the rest. He doesn’t know what Sebastian’s office looks like, but there has to be a wall in there that will fit the bill. 

An enamel and copper vase, a Khatam inlaid photo frame, a few Negar Gari…

Kurt stops.

Would Sebastian want that? The softer elements countering the strict lines of the art deco pieces, what could be described as feminine influences, are Kurt’s signature touch. But might Sebastian prefer the art deco without Kurt’s fingerprints all over it? Isn’t that what Sebastian meant by Kurt being heavy-handed with the pastels? 

Back in high school, Kurt had decorated his bedroom so that he and his stepbrother could share it. He'd skipped school so he could complete it in one day. He’d worked hard on it, trying to fuse a masculine air with his theatrical influence. What he thought was an eclectic representation of the masculine and the feminine turned into a Moroccan-themed disaster.

The word his stepbrother chose to use at the time was faggy, but there were ulterior motives behind it.

Sebastian made jabs in high school about Kurt not wearing boy clothes, comments that adult Kurt recognizes as the teenage boy equivalent of pulling Kurt’s pigtails. But at the time, they stung. Sebastian wouldn’t have made those comments if there weren’t a grain of truth to them, would he? 

Sebastian has never retracted those statements, so as far as Kurt is concerned, they stand.

Kurt flips his pencil over and starts erasing. He’ll pare down the extras – trade the Tiffany lamp for a banker’s lamp, replace the rug with something more Brooks Brothers than Pier 1.

Maybe he should just opt for another IKEA recreation, but that feels like copping out, going back on his word. 

He could always ask Sebastian. He swears his husband has passed by a few times, his footsteps rising and falling outside his door, but Kurt didn’t think anything of it. He figures Sebastian is passing through on his way to get something from the bedroom that he needs downstairs. Kurt doesn’t imagine the man is pacing the hallway, even if he is, trying to find a way to tell Kurt that lunch is ready. Little things like lunch, innocuous things, have become huge divides over the past few months. With anyone else, Sebastian has a history of railroading over them, hurt feelings be damned.

But Sebastian has learned his lesson. He paid a hefty price learning it, too.

Contemplating between clearing his throat so that Kurt knows he’s there and letting another meal go cold, he sees Kurt’s head lift up. It seems like an opening. Whether or not it is, Sebastian takes it.

“Lunch is ready.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kurt mumbles, brushing eraser shavings aside.

“Are you… are you coming downstairs?”

Kurt erases again, then pencils something on a sheet of paper that Sebastian can’t see. “Hmm… mmm?” 

It sounds like a question and an answer, but since Kurt doesn’t follow it up with anything, it most likely means that Kurt will be skipping lunch… again. Sebastian knocks idly on the door frame, giving Kurt a second longer to tell him for sure.

“Alright.” Disappointed, he turns to leave. “I guess I’ll come back up at dinner then.”

Kurt doesn’t know why the thought returns when he wasn’t even thinking about it, why it decided to nag at his brain when he had been able to ignore it for this long, but that’s the way his brain works now. His thoughts don’t always travel straight paths. They twist and turn, taking one thing and linking it to something unrelated. Erasing the ideas he’d sketched out, removing every inch of himself from Sebastian’s office, made him think about how eager he was to be rid of that word darling from above the window, and that ripped corner returns to his mind with a vengeance.

Well, as long as Sebastian is there, he might as well ask.

“Sebastian?”

Sebastian pauses in the doorway, not daring to move. “Yes?” 

“When was the last time you were here?” Kurt raised an eyebrow at the idea when it originally came to him. When would Sebastian have come to this house that Kurt didn’t know? They traveled Upstate once a year, but they always did it together as a family. And while they were here, Sebastian rarely ventured out alone. Sebastian isn’t the kind of person who would buy a house sight unseen. 

Unless he had found it during one of his outings with Grace. Which would mean that Grace had seen the inside. 

Grace would have seen this room and thought it would be hers, thought that they would someday live here, and Sebastian hid that word darling by the window for her and not Kurt.

The thought is so painful, it makes Kurt want to tear his nails out with his teeth so he’ll stop thinking about it.

Sebastian keeps his eyes locked to Kurt’s profile so he won’t miss the moment Kurt decides to look at him instead of the floor, the wall, or the ceiling.

“I found this house online. It wasn’t even on the market when I stumbled on it. To be honest, I’d only driven by it once. I hadn’t been inside until we moved in.”

“But you saw the inside,” Kurt asks. “Otherwise, how would you know about this room?”

“I took a virtual tour,” Sebastian admits sheepishly, “but it was extremely thorough. I’ve seen the blueprints, gone over the permits and the zoning. I had Tristan from the office look over the place when he came up to visit his folks. He facetimed me while he was here.” Sebastian furrows his brow. “Why? Is something wrong?”

Kurt’s heart beats regular again. Grace hadn’t seen it. 

Thank God. 

His eyes find the torn section of wallpaper, but they don’t stay there. He doesn’t want to clue Sebastian in about it if Sebastian doesn’t already know. He wants to uncover this mystery on his own. If Sebastian gets to keep secrets, big ones at that, then Kurt wants this one for himself. 

“No, no. Nothing’s wrong. I was just curious, you know. Wanted to understand your process. Why this house, why this neighborhood, that sort of thing.”

Kurt’s sentence comes out choppy. It’s odd how awkward talking has become for them. Sebastian used to think that the two things they had mastered were talking and fucking. They did both together with such ease. There were never any boundaries between them, emotionally or physically. Even when they were cutting each other down, which they did in the beginning, they did so with such finesse.

Not like now, when Sebastian is walking on eggshells and Kurt doesn’t want to hear half of what he has to say.

“If you come down for lunch, we can talk about my process. If you’re curious, that is.” Sebastian watches Kurt expectantly, waiting for an answer. 

And while Sebastian does, Kurt looks at his sketch – Sebastian’s office, the same way Sebastian always has it decorated. This is Sebastian without him and Grace: bland and emotionless, no light, little color, and no joy. Nothing exciting, nothing nuanced, nothing to indicate that he and Sebastian are together.

Not even those snapshots he’s so proud of.

Kurt hasn’t decided whether that’s a bleak picture or not. 

“Sure. I’ll be down in a sec,” Kurt decides because he does and doesn’t have an answer to that one. It changes as the day changes, and the days change too quickly. 

“Alright. I’ll be waiting.” Sebastian walks away, or Kurt thinks he does. He checks the time on his clock. It’s closing in on 2. 

Kurt glances up at the window, the dangling wallpaper bouncing with the breeze coming from a draft near the ceiling. It would be so easy to tear it down – grab an edge and rip, be done with it once and for all. It might even feel cathartic, exposing whatever is underneath it. But lunch is ready. He’s already left Sebastian waiting long enough.

He leaves that mystery for another day.

[facets-and-rainbows]

Blue Exorcist 10th anniversary book Q&A session

The 10th anniversary book has a section where Katoh answers 100 questions submitted by fans on Twitter, so here they are translated/paraphrased! May contain manga spoilers up to the recent flashback arc, so be warned.

(Note that I’m playing it very fast and loose here because there are A HUNDRED OF THEM, so not exact wordings, but it should capture the gist. Lemme know if there are any you want elaborated on)

1. Katoh likes the feel of traditional drawing more than digital but is impressed with how far digital has come

2. Meph THOROUGHLY ABUSES spacetime to watch all his shows and ensure that he gets all the merch he wants

3. Did the girls take all of Yukio’s school uniform buttons in middle school? Yes, they did (apparently it’s like A Thing for girls to ask for a button from their crush at middle school graduation, based on some sad movie from the 60s where a guy who got drafted as a kamikaze pilot gave a girl one of his uniform buttons to remember him by)

4. Rin's tail is about a meter long

5. There are tons of servants working at Mephisto's mansion. Belial is in charge of them

6. Katoh borrows from all sorts of neat real locations when making settings

7. Katoh identifies with pretty much all the characters the most! Except Lucifer.

8. Demon designs she's proud of include the impure king and hachirou, pretty much anything that was the main one in an arc

9. Katoh lists a bunch of her favorite musical artists/music she’s listening to recently: King Gnu, Official Hige Dandism, Kenshi Yonezu, BAD HOP, Sakanaction, Keyakizaka 46, Hypnosis Mic, Aimer, B’Z, Queen Bee.

10. Awww the rabbit manga that characters are often reading isn't just Robo to Usakichi, it's an even older one that she drew as a little kid

11. She likes industrial style interior designs

12. Rin and Yukio alternated who got the top bunk growing up, because they couldn't agree on it lol

13. Katoh cares a whole lot about panel layouts and speech bubble positions, might even be her favorite part of the process (it shows!)

4. Katoh does NOT have a mashou, lol

15. Rin has probably been practicing in secret so he can learn to carry stuff with his tail

16. Izumo probably got into shojo manga around 1st grade, her mom had some around the house

17. Specialty dishes: Rin - lots of stuff but especially nabe Yuri - stuff you can throw together quickly Shiro - stuff he learned from Yuri and/or cookbooks, alongside teaching Rin Yukio - Does. Not. Cook.

18. Can't pick a favorite place she's been on research, but there's no place like Japan

19. Kinzou's band isn't currently meeting because demons, but he's probably still thinking of new songs

20. Hardest characters to draw: anyone with detailed flowing hair. Hardest to write for: Lightning and Gedouin. She had to go read books about serial killers specifically for material for Gedouin, lol 

21. Suguro actually gets a dorm room to himself, though allegedly Yukio is technically assigned as his roommate, lol. Didn't end up that way what with Yukio being a teacher and also Rin’s whole...situation

22. Shiemi makes some of her own hair accessories! Cute

23. Katoh doesn't mind if you include stuff with fan letters but check with the editor first

24. Time for making each chapter: Planning/storyboarding: 1-5 days. Sketching: 3-5 days. Drawing/inking: the rest. Just...the rest of the time

25. Neither Suguro nor Izumo have dated before and neither is currently dating. But that's probably just because things were hectic for them! It could happen

26. Yukio breaks 5 or 6 pairs of glasses a year, someone get this kid a strap or something

27. How many spare glasses does Yukio have? Check the fanbook lol it's in there (dang it Katoh)

28. The demon she wants us to pay the most attention to is Lucifer. Because plot.

29. What's under the Order's big meeting table? It's a BOTTOMLESS PIT and if you fall in it you DIE that's what makes it COOL (laughs)

30. What are the job requirements for the angelic legion? Literally just Arthur liking you and inviting you to join

31. She WANTS to do more character profiles but just hasn't gotten to it

32. Rin's tail feels like a cat tail, texture wise

33. The "red Assiah fire" is literally just actual fire nothing special

34. Rin's current hair color is light blue fading to white at the ends

35. Thoughts on Rin's growth: she likes that he stays positive in awful situations and she also thinks it's very main character of him to face the past instead of avoiding it

36. Mephisto didn't purposely surround Rin with stuffed animals when he woke up after going crispy. Mephisto's bed is just Like That

37. Kurikara was based on a cool sword she found in a sword book, but that one was technically just a ceremonial sword. The symbol on it us a Sanskrit letter kaan (sp?) associated with Fudou Myouou

38. Kuro can communicate with normal cats and hangs out with them often

39. Sometimes Shiemi's skirt is extra fancy around the hem what's up with that? Apparently it's an optional accessory that comes with the skirts help I haven't noticed this and don't know any fashion terms in any language

40. When coloring, Katoh always tries to have an overall theme in mind ("emphasis on blue" etc) so it comes together in the end

41. Yes the twins are genetically related to Shiro because of Goro (she says they're like his nephews but I say GENETICALLY at least they'd be indistinguishable from his children)

42. Strongest mom of all the strong moms around here? Yuri! Did you SEE her give birth??

43. Are you careful about your own health Katoh-sensei? Not particularly! Her mom has had to bring her food at work sometimes! Don't do this at home kids

44. At the dating events Shura goes to, does she drink cocktails in moderation? Yeah, she probably downplays her normal drinking habits at these things. But normally she's down for just about any kind of drink

45. Lucifer just really likes oysters okay

46. How many pages of manga does Katoh draw in a day? If she's being good about self-care: three. Maximum number ever: TEN

47. Mephisto is one of those folks who can eat like a garbage compactor and never gain weight. Possibly because his body resists that sort of change the same way it resists aging etc

48. First food Rin cooked: fish burger type patty. Yukio's favorite things Rin cooks: fish simmered in soy sauce, yellowtail with daikon radish. It's fish all the way down

49: Did Rin ever get more monthly allowance from Mephisto? It doubled! He gets TWO 2000 yen bills now (rip) [T/N: That's uh, that's USD $37.26 a month or 33.10 euro]

50. Why isn't Rin more popular with the girls? He gets nervous talking to them, plus he's too oblivious to notice even if he DID have some fans

51. Why change Suguro's hair? She gets bored with keeping everything the same, and she wanted a visual representation that he was getting serious and going into kind of a training arc

52. Things Katoh pays extra attention to when drawing: trying to capture the feel of whatever she's drawing (like "that looks warm and soft" or "I bet that guy stinks" cough Lightning cough)

53: Does Rin take after Yuri more? (He's got her eyes!) Katoh tried to draw Yuri so she looks like both twins. Personality, too - Yukio has her smarts and Rin has her optimism

54: Do you ever wanna be like Mephisto? Well she'd like to be able to get away with just ANYTHING EVER, but no, let's not be like Mephisto

55. Konekomaru not only carries around a cat toy in case he meets any cats, he MAKES cat toys to carry around based on what he thinks the cats would like

56. How'd you come up with Shima? Go read the fan book!

57. Do the kids have Twitter/Instagram accounts? Rin - probably not. Konekomaru might be on some social media. Paku and Izumo are totally on instagram

58. Is there something Rin makes that you wish you could try? All of it! That's the whole idea! He's good at cooking!

59. Will we ever have a (G-rated) reveal of what ALL of Mamushi and her family's tattoos look like? Maybe! She'll think about it

60. Does Arthur have a repertoire of different hairstyles? Not really, he just puts some of it up on the top. Heck he might even have people to do that for him

61. If you wrote a shojo manga what would it be about? She'd have to do a lot of research before even coming up with a story, since there are so many style differences between the genres aside from just the subject

62. The other two of Mephisto's top 3 favorite foods: Cup ramen and....f-fried bubblegum?? Is that a THING???

63. Where do you start when drawing a character? Usually the outline of their face but if it's a complex pose/composition she'll start with whatever's in the foreground (like hands)

64. If Katoh could have a familiar, what demon would she choose? Mephisto. As the all-powerful author, she might actually be able to command him as a familiar!

66. If you swapped Yukio and Rin's relationship around what would change? not much, you'd pretty much have Rin going to the Illuminati and Yukio going to the past

67. Top 3 foods/souvenirs to try in Kyushu? Well she doesn't know what’s good CURRENTLY but when she was there she always used to like burdock tempura udon, hakata torimon (a kind of manju with white bean paste inside), and Chikae style cod roe. today I learned Katoh went to high school in Kyushu

68. Katoh listens to music a lot while she's storyboarding, then when she and the assistants are all drawing and inking they put various videos/movies and stuff on in the background

69. For all his hitting on girls, is Shima actually popular with the ladies at all? He's got enough girls in his life that he probably COULD find a girlfriend if he really wanted, but the double agent thing tends to get in the way. He still wouldn't be as popular as Yukio though (side thought/translator’s note: Shima would be proud of being number 69.)

70. Katoh has the ending planned out in a big-picture way, but there are still a few details here and there that she's fretting over

71. It's cute when the boys put their ties over their shoulders when they're working on something! Where'd that come from? She just figured a tie might get in the way and that seemed like a realistic way to get it out of the way

72. Looks like Yukio is getting some facial hair! What about Rin? They're both about the age for it, but maybe Rin can't grow a beard yet. Maybe a little peach fuzz here and there

73. Katoh's favorite blue exorcist merch? There were some exorcist licenses a while back, and the exorcist pins. Basically it's really cool that these little accessories she drew ACTUALLY EXIST NOW, LIKE YOU CAN HOLD THEM IN YOUR HANDS

74. Okay realtalk how long do we have left, I don't want the series to end yet? We're solidly in the second half by now but it's not, like, ABOUT to end yet

75. Katoh would be a Knight meister, based on what characters she likes to play in games and such

76. How many people in the whole exorcism cram school? More than you think! She doesn't give a number but apparently licensed exorcists also attend classes for new meisters, etc, so there's a wide age range attending

77. How's Arthur feel about, like, studying Taming on the way to becoming Paladin? He's at least mostly accepted that you have to use demons to fight demons effectively

78. Konekomaru started wearing glasses in his first year of middle school, so like 7th grade (more recent than I thought!) He has one spare pair, in contrast to Yukio lol

79. Katoh's current obsessions? Ghost/scary stories! She's even been going to live readings of them recently

80. Media Katoh consumes for inspiration? A wide range of foreign teen drama, horror/suspense, shojo manga, light novels, anime, etc. Special focus on things where two boys are in conflict or there are brothers involved

81. If they weren't exorcists what jobs would they have? Rin - chef. Yukio - doctor. Shiemi - uh, florist?

82. Inspiration for the design of True Cross Town? Katoh and her assistants gathered up a bunch of references, picked out stuff they felt matched the tone, and mashed them all up together

83. Did you use any references etc for the school/exorcist uniforms? She says she probably should have but she just kind of made them up before publication

84. Favorite part of drawing? For color pages, picking out a color scheme. For black and white, drawing in all the little details (though she doesn't always get time to lately)

85. Once again confirms the demon kings' weird hair is a representation of their horns. ADDS THAT PEOPLE WHO CAN'T SEE DEMONS CAN'T SEE THE WEIRD HAIR

86. Now that Yukio's at the Illuminati, where's he gonna get his Jump SQ and spare glasses? Well he probably never planned to stay for long, but hey it's a big ship and they might have an optometrist and/or newsstand there

87. Do you base the demon characters on any references etc? Not really, she just gets a general idea of popular demon designs and then makes up her own in her own style

88. Merchandise Katoh personally wants to have made: stuff that an adult could just use in their day to day life. Also, it's not gonna happen, but if her favorite figure brand made AoEx figures she could die happy

89. If Beelzebub's host body was a beautiful woman, how would Shima react? Would the womanizing win out over the bug phobia? Katoh replies that Shima would probably just faint from being near a girl that pretty, before the bugs even got involved

90. Will the twins ever get to smile and eat dinner together again?? We'll just have to wait and see!

91. What do you check at a "scenario check"? what's a scenario check man I dunno They check for people being out of character or the setting feeling off. They had a lot of these checks for the anime, but they also do them for the drama CD, games, and all that other stuff where multiple authors are involved

92. Why does Shura use baldy as an insult for people who are clearly not bald? She feels like they have some kind of metaphorical, mental kind of "baldness" and she's calling them out on it. Whatever that means

93. After Blue Exorcist ends, what do you want to draw next? She has SO MANY IDEAS, SO MANY

94. Did Katoh make up the Shinto chants that, for example, Izumo used against Gedouin? They're assembled from bits of actual Shinto prayers according to what feels right in the scene

95. Yukio reads the Jump SQ, right, and, just hear me out here, he likes gag manga, right? Does this mean he reads Salaryman Yukio? It's something he would read, but let's say that in the AoEx universe there's just a very similar manga that he finds oddly relatable

96. What do Yukio and Shima do in their free time on the Dominus Liminus? oh my god you guys this ship has so many amenities.  Yukio probably spends time reading in the library, which they totally have. There's also, like, a gym, and a movie theater, and a THEATER theater, all of which are free. Shima probably hangs out at the pool (!) and goes to the movies, and hits on illuminati girls, lol

97. Easiest character to draw? The ones with boring simple hair, lol. Lightning gets an honorable mention for ALSO not having eyes in most shots, but Rin wins--he was specifically designed to be easy for Katoh to draw because that's what you want in your main character

98. How do demons understand gender? They just possess whatever feels like the best match to how they feel in Gehenna, whether that's a man, or a woman, or a rat, or whatever

99. Where do you start when you're coming up with a story? She starts with character design and how the characters relate to each other. Currently she's just continuing an existing story, so she works on splitting up the overall plot into episodes and fleshing it out with scenes and information about characters

100. When do you feel most happy? She honestly feels like she lives a very happy life overall. Mentions noticing a lot of little things, like how nice her cats' heads smell when she cuddles them or taking a nice cold refreshing drink of water. There's happiness in everything. aww.

[heyitssmiller]

Chop It Like It’s Hot

A Worst Cooks in America O’Knutzy AU

The Sweater Weather Discord group helped me come up with this idea like two months ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. All credit goes to @lumosinlove for her amazing characters!

Chop It Like It’s Hot Masterlist

Chapter 1: Don’t Go Bacon My Heart

The Day Before the Competition

Interviewer (off camera): Finn O’Hara and Logan Tremblay for their introductions.

Logan: * taps on microphone* Is this mic working?

Finn: How do you still not know how to work a mic? You deal with them all time.

Logan: I signed up to compete in a cooking show, not to deal with your chirps.

Finn: You love ‘em. *winks*

Interviewer: So basically all we want from you guys is a brief introduction for the viewers. I’ll ask some questions, but most of this should be you guys just talking. We can edit things out later, so don’t worry about anything like that. Why don’t you guys start with your names and careers and we’ll go from there.

Finn: Yo, I’m Finn O’Hara, and I’m a terrible cook. *finger guns* Although I guess that’s a given, seeing that I’m on this show.

Logan: *mumbles in French, head in hands*

Finn: This asshole – shit, no – fuck! Sorry, I probably shouldn’t be cussing. This is a family-friendly show.

Logan: Dear God, please stop talking. I’m Logan Tremblay, the unfortunate boyfriend.

*Finn pouts*

Interviewer: And you guys play hockey?

Logan: Yeah, we play in the NHL. Gryffindor Lions.

Finn: That’s how we met, actually. Through hockey. We played together at Harvard, then got drafted to the Lions about a year apart. We’ve known each other for eight years and have been together for three of them. Can’t seem to get rid of this one.

Interviewer: And you’re not worried about being rivals on this show?

Finn: Rivals is a strong word… I mean yes we’ll be competing against each other instead of being teammates, but we know going in that it’s not personal. Just a little healthy competition.

Interviewer: So what made the two of you sign up for this show?

Logan: We didn’t. Our teammate Dumo and his wife Celeste did. They thought it would be funny. *pause* They’re probably right.

Interviewer: Out of the two of you, who is the worst cook?

*Finn and Logan point to each other*

Logan: You can’t be serious.

Finn: You once cooked pasta so much that it turned into literal paste!

Logan: You tried to cook pizza rolls in a toaster.

Finn: That’s what it said in the instructions!

Logan: It said toaster oven, you - *more French*

Finn: English, Tremz. How many times do I have to tell you that? I guess we’ll find out once and for all who the better cook is by the end of the next eight weeks, right? *mouths “it’s me” to the camera*

Logan: Whatever, Fish.

Interviewer: I think we’ve got all we need guys, thanks. Start time for tomorrow is 10:00 am, but plan on being here forty-five minutes to an hour early to get ready. We’ll see you then.

Competition Day

“Are you nervous? I’m nervous.” Finn stated, running a hand through his hair and looking around at the studio they’d be in and out of for the foreseeable future. There were cooking stations everywhere and he could already see tools and machines that he had no clue how to use. There were twelve other contestants that he didn’t know and the crew scattered everywhere, running back and forth trying to get everything ready. “God, how am I sweaty already? Is this normal?”

Logan rolled his eyes but still reached over to grab Finn’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Relax. It’s not so bad.” Finn smiled down at him, glad that they were at least here together. How in the hell did he get so lucky?

“Besides, you’ll be sent home soon enough. So don’t stress too much.”

Finn laughed. “Wow, I hate you so much right now.” He betrayed his words with a quick kiss. “You’re going down.”

Those green eyes flashed at the challenge, but right as he opened his mouth to respond-

“Good morning, recruits!”

All heads turned towards the voice. Three figures stood towards the front of the room: one they both recognized as the producer, who was flanked by who Finn assumed to be the chefs, seeing that they were wearing chef’s outfits. Chef’s uniforms? Did their uniforms have a technical name? Finn made a mental note to google that later.

Anyways, one was a short woman with dark ringlets tied back in a ponytail and an undiscernible expression on her face. The other was tall, blond, and had legs for days Jesus Christ-

“Welcome to your first day of boot camp! This is chef Dorcas Meadowes and chef Leo Knut; they’ll be your team leaders. We’re going to start with some footage of you all walking into the kitchen, so if you all would wait out there until you’re allowed to come back in. Cameras will be rolling, so be ready! After that, our chefs will explain the first challenge and then you’ll start cooking.” He clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s get this show started!”

“Why did they make us come in here just to send us back out?” Logan grumbled, following the other shuffling contestants out into the hall.

“Probably easier to give directions to the main studio instead of saying ‘hey, just wait out in the hall.’”

Logan hummed noncommittally. “I guess.” He wasn’t overly excited to be here; most of this (besides the initial push by Dumo and Celeste) was Finn’s idea. And god knows he could never say no to Finn. One look at that pout and brown puppy-dog eyes and he was done for. Logan didn’t like cooking, but he did like Finn. And they’d probably remember this for years to come. It didn’t matter what he was doing, as long as he was with Finn and making memories with him he’d do just about anything.

“Wonder what the first challenge is.” Finn mused, his eyes locked on the doors.

Logan laughed. “Always so impatient.”

“I’m a New Yorker,” Finn grinned, leaning into his accent. “It’s in my blood.”

The doors opened and contestants began filing back into the kitchen. Finn made sure to wave enthusiastically at the chefs with a wide smile. Logan noticed the tall one (god, he’d already forgotten the guy’s name) give a little wave in return as the other chef commanded the attention of everyone else in the room.

“Good morning, recruits, and welcome to boot camp! I’m chef Dorcas Meadowes, and this is chef Leo Knut. He’s the rookie of our crew, but don’t worry – he’s still qualified to teach all of you. Even though that’s not saying much.”

There was a smattering of laughter and chef Leo smiled, revealing dimples Logan could see from where he stood. “Hey, y’all. I’m very excited to see what makes all of you qualified to be put on this show. Who knows? Maybe you’ll give me more gray hair.” Dorcas laughed and ran her fingers through the tuft of gray hair at his temple.

“When did you get this? I don’t remember seeing it when we were in culinary school. Is it from Iron Chef?”

“Nah, this is from having Gordon Ramsay come to my restaurant.”

“Truly a terrifying man.” She shuddered. “Anyways, you guys be nice to this giant ball of sunshine. Even if he’s new, he’s still able to eliminate you from this competition.”

“In order to pick our teams, we need to see what kind of skills you have.” Leo winced. “Or don’t have. So today, we want you to make your favorite dish. Easy enough, right?”

“Oh god,” Finn murmured into Logan’s ear. “What’s my favorite dish? Do I even have one?”

“Finn.”

“You all have an hour to complete this task.” Dorcas said, glancing down at her watch. “And your time starts… now!”

“Fuck.” Finn stated emphatically, dashing off to the pantry.

Fuck was right. God, what was Logan going to make? He was wracking his brain for something while he grabbed two aprons from the back. He tossed one to Finn and took the station beside him before hurrying to the pantry. Chicken was always a safe bet, right? Celeste made a barbeque chicken recipe that was to die for. That couldn’t be too hard. It was just chicken and barbeque sauce. And maybe green beans on the side? He could get those canned ones and they’d taste fine if he rinsed them. This was fine.

He guessed on the temperature for the oven. 350 seemed good. Then he dumped two chicken breasts into a pan, poured the barbeque sauce over them, and put them into the oven.

“What are you making?” Logan startled at the soft voice, turning to see chef Leo at his station.

Blue eyes.

Logan blinked, Leo’s question forgotten. “Quoi?”

“You speak French?”

Why was his brain refusing to work all of a sudden? Get it together, Tremblay. “Uh, yeah.”

“What are you making?” Leo asked for the second time, but now it was in French. Weirdly worded French.

“Barbeque chicken.” Logan responded in French, then switched back to English. “What in the world was that?”

Leo flashed him a grin. “New Orleans, born and raised. We speak French there, too. Now tell me how you’re making that chicken.”

“Uh.” He had never said the word ‘uh’ so much in one sitting. Merde. “I put it in a pan, spread barbeque sauce over it, and I’m cooking it at 350.”

“How do you know when it’s done?”

Was this a trick question? It felt like a trick question. “Uh.” Fuck. “It has to get to a specific internal temperature, right?”

The chef nodded. “And what’s that?”

“145?"

Something in Leo’s expression flickered, but Logan couldn’t figure out what it meant. “Well, good luck. Logan, right?”

“Yeah.”

“See you at the judging table.” He said with a dimpled smile before moving to Finn’s station, which was already a mess. “Oh my. How are you doing over here?”

Finn laughed a bit hysterically. “Not good. Not good at all.”

“Ok. What’s going on?”

“Well I’m trying to make carbo’hara, and –“

“Really, Fish?” Logan called from his station. “That’s what you’re making?”

“What’s carbo’hara?” Leo asked as he watched Finn put bacon in a pan.

“Oh,” Finn waved a hand carelessly. “It’s just carbonara, but a pun on my name, O’Hara. Get it?”

Leo laughed, crossing long arms over his chest. “That’s terrible.”

“Yeah, but it makes me happy. My parents used to make it every night before my brother or I had hockey games.”

“Oh, that’s right. You guys are hockey players.”

“Go Lions!” Finn cheered, taking a spoonful of butter and throwing it into the pan with the bacon.

“Are you putting butter on bacon?” Leo asked with a raised eyebrow.

Finn responded with full confidence, “I didn’t want it to stick to the pan.”

“Ok. Got it. I… I look forward to seeing what you make.” Finn watched as Leo bit his lip and tried his hardest not to laugh.

Cute.

Finn felt his cheeks flush and blamed it on the steam from the pasta.

The last thirty minutes of the task were absolute chaos, but both boys got it done. Finn’s looked messy, which accurately summed up his cooking style. Logan was pretty proud of how his looked; he just hoped it tasted good. He gave Finn a smile and a fist bump. “Ready to be judged?”

Finn laughed, looking down at his plate. He grimaced. “Not really.”

“We’re all bad cooks. Chances are someone else’s dish is worse than yours.”

“That… actually helped. Thanks.”

***

 Finn was chosen to be judged before Logan. He brought up his plate with a sheepish smile and placed it on the table in front of the chefs. Dorcas raised an eyebrow while Leo prodded the pasta with his fork.

“It’s carbo’hara.” Finn stated with pride.

“Well, Finn…” Dorcas met his eyes. “This looks like a mess, but let’s see how it tastes.”

Finn cringed as they both took a bite of his food. Dorcas frowned as she chewed and Leo tilted his head, a confused expression on his face.

“I don’t know how you did it, but this solidifies in my mouth like glue.”

“Oh god, please don’t eat any more.”

“You definitely put a lot of effort in and you have a lot of potential,” Leo said with a small smile. “I think you were just a little too ambitious for this first round and it got away from you.”

“That’s fair. Thanks for the input.” Finn grabbed his plate and made his way back to his station. He wasn’t too upset by those reviews – he already knew he was a bad cook. But he had potential, so at least he had that going for him.

Logan grinned at him back at his station. “I can’t believe you served the judges glue pasta.”

“At least I’m not serving them canned green beans.”

“They taste just fine, thank you very much.”

“Lo, they’re professionals. You’re not getting away with something lazy like that.”

He definitely got in trouble for using the canned green beans. Dorcas looked down at them like they were worms. Leo gave him the ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ look, which was even worse, please don’t look at me like that.

“Canned food is a no-go, huh?”

“Definitely.”

“And this chicken isn’t cooked all the way.” Leo said, showing him the pink meat. “You said earlier that you’d cook it until it reached 145 degrees, but chicken needs to reach 165 at a minimum.”

“I’m sure it tasted fine, though.” Dorcas added. “You can’t really go wrong with pre-made barbeque sauce and chicken.”

Ouch. Logan grabbed his plate. “Right. Thanks.”

Finn was predictably cackling at his station. “Tremz, they couldn’t even eat yours. Celeste is going to be so disappointed in you.”

“Shut up.”

 ***

As soon as they were back into their hotel room, Finn kicked his shoes off and faceplanted into the couch. “I can’t believe that took so long.”

“Yeah,” Logan sat down and grabbed his take-out. “Who knew cooking all day would make us so hungry?”

Finn made grabby hands at the other food container. Logan laughed and handed it to him. “I haven’t been this hungry since playoffs, fuck.”

They ate in silence and were finished in record-setting time. Finn collected their trash and stood up to throw it away. “So blue team, huh? I’m kind of surprised they put us on the same team.”

“Me too. But Leo seems like a good teacher, so I’m glad we’re on his team.”

“Yeah, he seems so young, too.” Which sounded ridiculous to say; Leo couldn’t be that much younger than them. “If he’s already winning competitions and starring in cooking shows at that age, he must be pretty good.”

“Winner of Iron Chef America, Chopped, Guy’s Grocery Games…” Logan read off his phone with a low whistle. “He graduated culinary school early and opened his own restaurant a year later.”

“Damn.”

“There’s a video of one of his competitions on here.”

“Play it!” Finn said excitedly, flopping back down on the couch and peering over his boyfriend’s shoulder. Logan gave him a strange look. “What? Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”

“I think this is going to be way too complicated for us, but ok.”

So they sat on the couch watching cooking competitions for hours, learning skills and techniques that went way over their heads. Logan wordlessly switched to Leo’s cooking show Cajun Cooking, watching episode after episode of the blue-eyed chef teaching traditional New Orleans recipes.

Little did they know that halfway across the city in his own apartment, Leo Knut was watching Youtube highlights of the Gryffindor Lions, keeping a sharp eye out for number seventeen and number ten.

[p-artsypants]

The Ghost of Smokey Joe (5)

Nightmare

No lyrics in this chapter, because the song in the title has no words. But it really embodies everything I wanted to say with the chapter.

Also, ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN CHOO CHOOOOOO

Ao3 | FF.net

—

“Do you have those drafts ready for the meeting?” Asked Marinette, peering into her co-worker’s office, a very peppy woman named Jill. 

“Of course! I’ve gotten them matted, just like you asked. 10, right?” 

“Yes! Thank God someone is doing their job right today.” 

“Oh, Marinette, where are your shoes?” 

Marinette looked down to her bare feet. “Oh, I wore pumps that are great for working at my desk and walking to the water cooler, but they got kicked off somewhere around 9 this morning.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

“Have you seen Tim? He’s fixing the sizing sheet and I can’t find him anywhere!” 

“Did you try his office?” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Tim has an office?! Since when?” 

“Since always? Are you okay? You look like you could use a nap…or at least a cup of coffee.” 

Marinette groaned. “No naps! No more coffee! My heart is just a hum now anyway! I haven’t been able to sleep the last few days and last night I didn’t sleep at all. I got this weird phone call—“ she stopped herself before she said too much. “Anyway, yes, Tim does have an office. I forgot.” 

“And he’s always so good at emails, you never need to talk to him. I know. We had this same conversation last week.” 

Marinette groaned again as she covered her face in shame. “Why is Mr. Agreste doing this to me?” 

“Speaking of Mr. Agreste, have you gotten any answers from him today? I’ve sent three emails and he’s not responding at all. Apparently Tim’s having the same problem with Adrien.” 

“I haven’t heard a thing from the manor. Not Gabriel, not Adrien, not even Nathalie. We’re supposed to have a meeting at 2, but I haven’t heard if that’s still on.” 

“Doesn’t Adrien usually come into the office on meeting days?” 

“He did…I don’t know what's up with him. He was being super cagey with me yesterday when I went to talk to him.” She sighed, hunching her shoulders. “I’m worried.” She didn’t disclose the truth of the conversation, that Adrien had effectively ended their friendship. It was too painful, but too fresh to ignore. 

“I’ve been working here since Emilie was still around. Gabriel went through a huge personality shift when she disappeared. Maybe Adrien takes after his dad? Maybe something happened?” 

“Ugh, don’t talk like that, I’ll just worry more!” An alert beeped from her phone, letting her know she had an email. “Ah! An intern’s job is never done! See you later!” 

“Good luck, Marinette!” Jill called. After she left, she added, “you’re going to need it.” 

At two o’clock, the department heads and designers all came together in the conference room. Marinette set up her laptop to the screen and had the presentation open, as well as the Skype call to Gabriel. 

He had yet to join the session, but it was still a few minutes before the meeting officially began. 

“I see you’re wearing shoes now,” said Jill. 

“I don’t know if I could handle the ridicule from Mr. Agreste if he saw me bare foot in the conference room.” Marinette chuckled weakly. 

“As if Gabriel would ever reprimand you,” said someone else. “He adores you.” 

“That must be why he took a vacation and told no one,” she laughed again. Was her filter fading with all this sleep deprivation? Probably. 

Finally, the call started, but Nathalie took the helm instead. 

Before questions could be asked, she announced, “I’m afraid this meeting must be postponed.” No ‘hello’, no ‘thank you for your patience and hard work’. It was enough to make Marinette snap in all of her exhaustion and emotional turmoil. 

“Nathalie, with all due respect, everyone is here and ready to go. Why isn’t Gabriel ready?” She huffed. 

Nathalie glanced away from the camera, a tell that she was about to deliver a great blow. “Mr. Agreste is deceased.” 

The room went silent. Someone dropped a pen. 

Marinette fell into a chair, feeling like the ground was shaking under her. 

“Early this morning, both Gabriel and Adrien passed away. A joint visitation and funeral will be held at the manor on Friday evening and Saturday morning, respectively. Everyone is invited, but it’s not mandatory, of course.” 

Marinette couldn’t swallow the lump in her throat; it was so thick. 

“The fall line will not be released this season. Two weeks paid vacation will be passed on as we prepare the new head designer to take Gabriel’s place.” 

Someone asked, “Who is the new designer?” 

Most heads looked to Marinette, knowing the answer. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been determined to be the new head designer.” 

She sputtered out of her shock. “What? Me?! No! Surely not! I’m just an intern!” 

“Intern to the head designer,” someone clarified. “We all knew you were going to be hired as his assistant soon. It was obvious.” 

“But—but—“ she stammered. It was rather obvious, thinking about it. Gabriel was just waiting for her to secure that college degree to make it official. “I can’t! I just—“ Without any preamble, tears burst forth and rolled down her face. 

Adrien was gone. 

Her best friend. The love of her life. Without a goodbye, and on such horrible terms. 

Screw the responsibilities, the job title didn’t matter. She didn’t care at all.

Several arms wrapped around her, her coworkers, her friends, comforting as best as they could. 

“No one is expecting you to jump right in,” Nathalie explained. “You were quite close to both of them.” 

“What about you?” Marinette rasped out. 

“I had my moment earlier. I’m in business mode now. If anyone would like more details, please reach me privately.” 

And she left. Like a whirlwind, leaving destruction in her path. 

“Can you get home on your own?” Someone asked Marinette. 

She thought she confirmed affirmative, but someone led her from the room with an arm around the shoulder. Maybe it was Tim. She didn’t really know. She didn’t really care. 

When she arrived home, she dropped her purse on the floor. Where were her other bags? At the office? Oh well, didn’t matter now. 

Nothing mattered anymore.

“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Alya and Nino were home, they were here and alive, and they didn’t know. 

They didn’t know and she had to tell them. 

“He’s gone,” She whispered.

“Who?” Asked Alya, resting a comforting hand on her arm. 

“Adrien…he—he’s dead.” 

“…what?” Nino squeaked out. “H-how? Why?” 

“I don’t know…he and Gabriel—“ she stopped and flexed her hand. Her phone was still in her hand. It held answers. 

She called Nathalie on video. 

“Hello Marinette. I’m glad to see you made it home safe. I was worried.” 

“What happened?” She blurted. “Nino and Alya know that he died. What happened?” Because there had to be a reasonable explanation. 

Nathalie’s face morphed from serious business to pain and pity. “Are you sure you want to know?” 

God, with a preamble like that, it couldn’t be good. Not painless like Carbon monoxide poisoning in their sleep, and not instant like a car accident. 

“Please Nathalie, I have to know.” 

She breathed shakily and admitted, “it was a murder-suicide, as enacted by Adrien. He first stabbed Gabriel, and then himself.” 

“Augh!” Marinette sobbed out. It was an ugly sound that couldn’t be controlled or silenced. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could lie…but I can’t. Adrien had been acting strange lately…I think Gabriel knew this was going to happen.” 

“No! You’re lying!” Marinette yelled. “Adrien loved his father! He would never—he’s not like that!” 

“Marinette, I saw them. Adrien was obviously deeply disturbed.” 

“SHUT UP!!” She ended the call and dropped the phone on the floor. 

Then she looked to her friends, who were both bawling like her. Nino moved first and pulled her into a tight hug. Alya came around the other side, crushing her in a Marinette-sandwich. 

“You’re right, he wouldn’t do that.” Alya offered. “But they’re both gone, so we can’t prove anything.” 

“If Nathalie didn’t tell the office, then the truth might never come out,” Said Nino, nodding in reassurance. “Only the four of us will have any idea.” 

After a long time, numbness started to set in. There was a degree of disbelief in her still, where she may have heard it, but she didn’t see it. 

That left room for doubt. 

Without a word, she took her phone from the floor and wandered back to her room. 

After the door closed, Tikki appeared. “Marinette…” 

But she wasn’t listening. She was staring at her phone screen, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. 

Then she started a call. 

It rang and rang and rang and rang…

“Hey there, it’s Adrien, I’m not available to answer right now. But leave me a message or shoot me a text, and I’ll get back to you. Hope you have a great day!” 

The phone beeped. 

“Adrien,” she sobbed. “Adrien I know—goddamnit this sucks. I’m too late. I love you so much, and I’m too late. I wish I told you sooner. Even last night when you called—I’m sorry I didn’t know you were struggling. I’m sorry I didn’t know how to help you. I loved you so much and I couldn’t save you and I’m so sorry…” 

“Marinette…” Tikki tried to tell her to stop. 

“This is the closest I could get to telling you. And you’ll never hear it and—“ 

The phone beeped again, signaling the end of the recording. 

She saved it, and set the phone down. 

“Marinette…” 

“What is it, Tikki? What’s so important?” 

“I have to tell you something…but it’s really really bad.” 

“Well, hit me with it. Today is literally the worst day of my life.” 

“Adrien…well, he was Chat Noir.” 

As if the day couldn’t get any worse. 

“What?” 

“Chat Noir. He was Adrien.” 

“But—but he can’t be. You must be confused.” 

“Marinette, he literally wore the earrings before.” 

“I KNOW!” She screamed. “But you have to tell me he's someone else! Because I can’t lose both of them! I can’t do it Tikki!” 

“I know it hurts. You two were literally soul mates. The Ladybug and Black Cat always are.” 

“You’re not helping!” She sobbed. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” 

Tikki allowed Marinette to sob for a while, letting her anguish spill out of her. Tikki just kept watch for the Akuma that never came. 

“You know what you have to do next, right?” Asked Tikki. 

“What?” 

She sighed. “You have to go to the visitation and take back the ring.” 

“I can’t do that!” Marinette cried, horrified. “I can’t! There’s no way!” 

“We’ll he can’t be buried with it. You have to, Marinette.” 

Marinette crawled into bed, still fully clothed and wept and wept and wept until her tears burned her cheeks and exhaustion took hold.

--

All the chapter titles are songs from my spooky halloween playlist that inspired this fic (and their lyrics will be in the chapters)! You can find that playlist here. The playlist will be updated as the fic goes on.

[meisdumb]

Hizashi

Started 7/1/21

Done 9/27/21

Posted: 10/3/21

October 17, Late Morning, Council Meeting

Naruto Uzumaki 7 days old, Status Jinchurriki

Hey! Sorry for keeping everyone waiting, we had a lot of thoughts for the next chapter, a lot of drafts were written, most were trashed, and now we decided on giving you guys this.

(), ‘’, thoughts

“Speaking”

“YELLING, ARGUING”

[commentary]

“Welcome everyone,” said Hiruzen seated in the center seat of the council table.

“As everyone knows, our primary focus today will be to discuss repairs for the village districts that had been destroyed during the Kyuubi attack last week. And please do not argue, everyone will have the same amount of work. As expected, we will follow Plan Rebuild, Section C, Phase 2.” said Hiruzen.

---

Hizashi didn’t listen to much of it. He didn’t need to, he was just there to accompany his elder brother. Nobody was here to ask for his opinion. Hiashi was who they wanted there.

‘Well maybe they didn’t want Hiashi there either, Hiashi wasn’t exactly the most likable person in Konoha.’ thought Hizashi

He was only there because Hiashi’s child was arriving soon. So just in case Hitomi went into early labor like Kushina they would still have someone to carry out rebuilding plans. (because his little Neji-chan wasn’t important at all) And though Hizashi said he wasn’t listening, you would hear the civilians' complaints every few minutes.

‘They just had to bitch about everything, didn't they?’ thought Hizashi to himself

---

This council meeting seemed to go well enough, normal enough, if you took into account what had happened the previous week.

But then again they also kept on bringing up this, “What will we do about the dead bodies?” It was mentioned so often, honestly, he thought, they said shinobi were heartless but it seemed like they were the heartless ones. They were so comfortable mentioning death, especially deaths of their own loved ones. It made him wonder how they could claim to be people. Civilians made him feel sick.

Barely anyone asked questions about Minato’s death, it surprised him, though he ignored it without much thought, he supposed it was unanimously understood that Minato had died a hero for Konohagakure. Everyone did like the Yondaime..

---

He didn’t pay attention until Danzo started speaking, midway in sentence-

“-Uzumaki is an infant chosen by us to contain the Kyuubi, it will be the next jinchuuriki”

‘Wait, what? What the hell was Danzo saying?’ thought Hizashi as he started internally screaming and yelling at Danzo. (It’s an ingenious  seal, Kushina’s favorite that she created, lets you yell all you want, cry all you want (particularly useful for the Kushina Bawl), scream all you want, all in your mind, and all people would see was a blank face. Kushina liked to call  it the Blank Faced Asshole Seal, but she still officially listed it as the Blank Face Seal.) ‘What was he doing telling everyone about the jinchuriki? Why wasn’t the Sandiaime doing anything to stop Danzo?! Wasn’t the Jinchuriki an S-class secret?’ thought Hizashi, but with  the Blank Face Seal all people would see was a blank face from Hizashi.

Only con was  that it didn’t stop time, so he often found himself being asked if he was alright. (Kushina said the Time Stop was an easy seal (easy, my ass, thought Hizashi, but then again Kushina was an Uzumaki), but it would “fuck up the entire seal cus it ts’nt useable with the Humanlike Movements for Statues seal, that’s the thing about layered seals Hizashi, you are literally layering each seal on top of each other, and when you do that, sometimes it works, but most of the time, you end up with a burn or some other injury, they work fine on their own but they, say, repel, each other when used together at the same time t’tbane.” as Kushina said.)

---

“-that is all I have to say” finished Danzo.

And then the civilian council erupted into madness, screams and shouts that the child was a shapeshifter, the kiyuubi in disguise, fooling the Hokage and his besties, (‘if only they could form logical conclusions as fast as they form conspiracy theories’ thought Hizashi as he watched them get dragged out)(of course they didn’t actually call the Hokage advisor’s besties, that was an inside joke Hizashi knew) other people accepted the child was a jinchuuriki and could go rampant at any moment, a lot other hypocrisy and bull went ignored as ANBU had to drag them out the doors for the real council meeting to start.

Once the civilians were all evacuated from the room, privacy seals were activated.

---

‘Huh,’ thought Hizashi, that was unusual, though not really considering the kyuubi had just destroyed over half of Konoha a week ago. But those were the really old seals, not the normal privacy seals activated during more important than average meetings, that anyone could bypass, (but was anyone going to stop an important source of entertainment?)but the seals activated today were made during the founding days of Konoha, the best Konoha had since they were gifts from the Uzumaki clan. No one made better seals in the Elemental nations now, not even Kushina (and she couldn’t bypass them either).

Now on the thought of seals and Seal Masters, Hizashi couldn’t comprehend how in the world, [like in the whole universe how,] how Jiraiya was a certified Seal Master, Jiraiya wasn’t even certified a Sealing Apprentice of a certified Seal Master!!! Kushina only ever made it to Sealing Apprentice, but Hizashi could assure you, she could be a Seal Master. [if only her mother hadn’t] Jiraiya’s world of sealing was worlds below Kushina’s. It was like comparing the power of the Sage of Six Paths in his prime to a civilian childs weakest low. It was as if the sealing arts were a joke now.

---

Just then Hizashi checked the clock and realized his ramblings in his brain had taken up a sixth of the meeting, welp, he didn’t care, he’d been through enough briefings  to know that nothing important happens in the first 20 minutes of the Shinobi council meeting most people get up to stretch or use the lavatory.

‘But who could blame them?’ thought Hizashi “they all had to sit in those flimsy plastic fold up chairs, while the Sandaime and his besties sat in better chairs. Honestly, he knew they had to cut budgets because of the toll the war had on them, but seriously? Seriously besties? Couldn’t you give us the same chairs you have, instead of letting us suffer here?’ Hizashi thought, as he walked back to his seat after washing his hands and stretching.

----

“Thank you for your cooperation and patience, (Hizashi sure as hell wasn’t cooperating anymore, the Hokage had just stood by while Danzo publicly revealed an S-class secret.) Since we have publicly announced the jinchuriki (aw bestie, you shouldn’t have!) new laws are soon to be,” said the Sandaime, with Koharu, Homura, and Danzo seated beside him.

“I’m sorry  to those who will be affected by this as since Naruto Uzumaki is now a jinchuuriki, her life will not be as it was supposed to be.” said the Sandaime

“Anyone who was bestowed guardianship of Naruto Uzumaki under their wing after the death of her parents shall not, now,” said the Third Hokage. As Hizashi listened, his lips forming a frown.

‘Mikoto won’t like that when she hears’ thought Hizashi, and by coincidence, there she was as she stood up, all eyes on her, as she spoke. (He hadn’t seen her for three weeks, she never came by, and the Uchiha never let him into the uchiha Compound.)

[julessworldd]

Cheerleader and the future rockstar

Warnings: cussing, there’s a jock being an ass talking about the Oc in a gross, sexual way. arguing a little.

A/N: I don’t know much about Izzy’s family life, like his mom and brothers name. I think the one I had is right for his younger brother. And what year he finished high school, bare with me. Oc’s home life is sorta sucky even though she’s the rich cheerleader. she’s not snobby at all like the sterotype everyone has about cheerleaders. I will make a part 2!

@slashscowboyboots​ @roger-taylors-car​ @reigns420​ @awildkaitlynhasappeared​ @ginny-rose-sixx​ @izzysguitar​ since you liked the post last night about the upcoming fic :)

High school Au of Izzy.. Izzy falls for the cheer captain after, she offers her help on an essay in English. Here's the thing the cheerleader has loved Izzy since he grabbed her from falling down the stairs, sophomore year. 

Many know Jeff Isbelle or now Izzy for lots of things. He was the cool, stoner, who was planning on being a rockstar with his buddy, Bill Bailey. To some teachers he was hell on wheels, "The badboy" even though he barely talked. Jocks: Izzy was a creep, just another shadow, stupid stoner who needs to have better life plans. To Judith Channing Izzy was: her crush of two years, wanted to spark a conversation, but her red and black cheer uniform stopped her. Izzy hated the cheer squad because their "Loyalty" to the jocks, they were too happy for his liking at 10 am. Judith remembers when Tommy Lockeler tried to push her down the 3rd floor stairway after, she told him she thought he was nothing but a whore and didn't want to go on a date.  Felt like it was yesterday.. 

I stared at Tommy as he was putting his claim about him being a manwhore. His face got redder and redder by the minute.. 

"Keith told me you had such a tight pussy, Channing. Wanna let me test his theory out? Probably won't you're just a bitch", Tommy spat back.

"Fuck you, Tommy. You just proved my point right there! God, you're so stup-", I felt the air out of my chest leave as I tumbled backwards into someone's arms.  "Whatever", I heard Tommy stomp away. "Hey, hey. You okay?", I heard a soft but gravely voice ask. I opened my eyes to see a tallish boy with medium brown hair, hazel eyes holding me, face with concern. "Yeah, I'm okay. Thanks for not letting me bust my head open, uh?", I said, holding my hands flat on his chest, one hand clutching his Rolling Stones' shirt. "Jeff, but I go by Izzy. Aren't you that Channing girl?", Izzy said, pulling me up, pushing a hair out of my face. "Yeah, I'm Judith. Nice to know my hero's name, Izzy", I blushed.  Izzy grinned, "What made Tommy try to commit murder after lunch anyways?" I smoothed out my uniform skirt, "Just the guy I lost my-", I realized what I was about to say to the new guy. "My hat, this summer. Tommy wanted to- '', I said, but Izzy nodded and seemed to understand what my 'hat' actually was. 

"Well, Keith needed to keep his mouth shut. Tommy is just an asshole, he's a jock they're all the same'', Izzy grumpled. "Yeah, you're right", I said. "Judith! We're gonna be late to practice, come on!", Erin yelled down the hall. "Thanks again, I appreciate it a lot. See ya around, Izzy", I smiled. "No problem. Have a good practice, Jude", Izzy said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his Malobros.  I watched Izzy smirk and skip down each stair, his cute ass bouncing as he went down. "Judith!", Erin yelled again, taking me away from my hero. 

Crazy how that's been two years ago, Izzy doesn't recognize me or chose to at least. After that day, I had a big secret crush on the Johnny Thunders of Lafayette. No guy gets me like Izzy does, Izzy barely knows me but he has such a big affect on me.  I walked into Mr. Allan's senior english class, there was a seat by the window, behind this dark headed boy. I sat down behind him, judging if I liked this seat. It was close enough to board, not in the very very front, nice view outside. "Oh Mike?", the kid turned around. "Oh, you're not Mike. Hi", I looked up and it was Jeff Isbelle. "No, sorry. Is this seat taken?", I asked as my heartrate rose. "No, he came in for a minute, guess he left before I noticed", Izzy said. "Okay class, let's get started!", Mr. Allan clasped his hands together. Allan was going over what we would be doing in the class before we graduated in June. Same bullshit honestly. Read Shakeperse, write essays, read other dead guys' writings. 

Two weeks later, Izzy was still seated in front of me. Making 3rd period class time hell, if you call getting to see his beautiful self plop down everyday. "Alright guys, we finished McBeth and now I'm wanting you to write about how you took the play. I'm asking if you liked the ending, if not write how you would have ended instead. You can use the books, notes we took, even chapter tests I gave back. Due in two weeks", Mr. Allan stated before sitting back at his desk.  It was getting close to 4th period, meaning I could leave for the day, no cheer practice today too. 

"Hey Judith?", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what's up?", I asked from writing my draft. "Did you keep anything from this unit? I lost my binder", Izzy asked. "Yeah, what do you want?", I smiled. "Notes, I guess. I'm not sure how I wanna write this shitty essay", Izzy grinned. Damn what a beautiful smile. I handed him every note I took on the play, side notes, everything.  "Pretty smart for a cheerleader", Izzy said, grabbing my notes. "I liked the play really well, okay?", I fought back.  "If you say so, Judith", Izzy turned back around. 

I walked in the empty room, well thought it was empty. Izzy was sitting in a desk next to Mr.Allan's desk, "Oh sorry, sir", I started to turn around. "It's okay, Judith. Actually, I need you for something", Mr. Allan smiled. I stood next to Izzy. "With what?", I asked. "Mr. Isbelle said you gave him his notes, the first day I assigned this essay. I'm just wanting to make sure he's not lying is all", Mr. Allan said. "Jeff is telling you the truth, sir. He asked if I still had anything about the play and wanted my notes for a starting point, I guess. You said we could use anything we did for the play", I said, starting to get offended he would assume Izzy stole my notes and wanted to cheat. 

"Okay, Judith. Well, since you're here go sit down.", Mr. Allan breathed out, probably embarrassed and a 17 year old girl started him out. The ball rang making Mr.Allan go out for hall duty and talk to other teachers. 

"Hey", Izzy said, standing in front of me. "Hi, Jeff", I smiled. "Thanks for backing me up with dickhead. If I tell you this, will you promise me you won't go to practice and gossip about me?", Izzy said clenching his jaw, he looked really hot. "Of course, Jeff. What's up?", I asked, rubbing my thumb over my other hand. "Your notes helped some, but I'm still stuck. Maybe, it's writer's block I need you to help me crap out this dumb essay. Please?", Izzy said. "Yeah, no problem, Jeffrey. I have cheer until 4:45, but I can meet you somewhere after.", I smiled. Izzy stared at me for a second, "Sure, that's cool. I can give you my address, mom's working late." 

I pulled up to Izzy's place, couple cars were parked outside. I decided to stay on the side of his street and yard, leaving a place for his mother. Izzy stepped out for a smoke as I got out, pulling my brother's t-shirt down. "Boyfriend's shirt?", Izzy blew out smoke from his lips. "No, brother's actually", I said, slinging my bag on my shoulder more. "Oh. Didn't know you had siblings, you gave me the spoiled only kid vibe", Izzy deadpanned. "No, three older brothers and two younger sisters.", I said, feeling small and embarrassed by Izzy. "My brother is here, just ignore him the best you can. He brought home some hamburgers, if you're hungry.", Izzy said, holding the door open. It was an average, but comfortable home. Pictures of Izzy and his brothers, with their mother lined the walls and a few tables. Tv by the wall, couple couches, chairs. Something wet touch my shein, "Sadie! Down. I'm sorry I thought Kevin set her out.", Izzy started to pull Sadie away by her collar. "She's okay. I have two dogs myself, I'm in her house, she's just checking me out. Yeah, you're a pretty girl", I said, bending down to pet her. "What kind of dogs?", Izzy said, sitting on a chair next to Sadie. "German shepherd, named Phoenix, Golden Retriever, Jagger. Jagger is new she's my baby like Phoenix", I said giggling as Sadie licked my hand. "Cool", Izzy mumbled. "Do you wanna start your essay or let me see what you have? Might not have to even start over", I got up and stood by his chair. "Damn, you're really about that essay", Izzy got up, going where I amused his room. 

 "Boys, I'm home!", A woman's voice entered the room. "Oh hi, dear. I didn't know Jeff had a girl over.", She smiled. "Yeah, I'm helping him on an english essay. I'm Judith Channing", I got up and grinned. "Channing? Channing? Is your father's name Frank?", She asked. "Yes, that's him", I said. "I went to high school with him, how is he?" "That's nice, uh he's good. Still in Chicago", I said. "Chicago?" "Yeah, business trip", I said, hoping Izzy would dash in or holler for me to come to see his room. "Does Jeff know you're here?", She asked with a worried look. "Yeah, we met outside. He went to his room for his english stuff, guess he fell to China '', I giggled. "Tell me about it, damn boy takes forever. Jeff! Did you forget about Judith? Jeffery Dean!", His mother yelled. 

"Mom, hey. Though I told you to come with me, Judith?", Izzy said standing beside me. "How was work, Momma?", Izzy hugged her. "Hi, I'm Kevin and you are?", Kevin, Izzy's younger brother checked me out. "Kev, let her alone she's with me", Izzy said, standing beside me protectively. "You're way way out of my brother's leguage. Hey Mom", Kevin said. "Come on. Holler if you need anything", Izzy grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. He grabbed my bag on the way. "Crack your door, Jeff. I mean it!", his mother yelled.  Izzy's room was nice, typical posters, navy blue bed set, desk with papers and pens, small nightstand with a picture of his family, set of records by his recorder player. I slid my shoes off by his desk and sat on the chair. Izzy flopped on his bed, unamused. 

"So what did you think about McBeth?", I asked. Izzy shrugged. "Izzy, your perspective is gonna help write this essay. Tell me", I scoffed. "Just a crazy dude that got killed for letting his power go to his side over what a couple hags had to say. I liked when he got ambushed by the people", Izzy sighed, rubbing his hair around.  "Okay, see that helps. So,you liked the ending and we can stretch your thought out into five paragraphs", I said, looking for a pencil.  "Listen, Judith I'm not in the mood for a stupid play from a dead guy from 400 years ago. Mr.Allan can go fuck himself", Izzy scoffed out. "If you didn't want me over why did you ask for my help. I do have other shit to do, Izzy", I pinched the bridge of my nose. This fucker made me drive half way cross town for this essay. "Then why did accept to come over and help?", Izzy spat back. "I don't know? Probably because I always help people who need help. It's what nice people do anyways", I rolled my eyes.

“Why did I have to ask a smart cheer captain for help?”, Izzy groaned.

“Sorry to break your little stereotype of cheerleaders being dumb and only want to fuck. You know what, Iz? I’m leaving, who cares if you finish the damn essay. Not like you care if you fail or pass, L.A won’t care either way”, I stood by his bed at his nightstand. Izzy stared up at me with confusion. “How do you know wanna go to L.A? I’ve never had a conversation with you before english”, Izzy raised up. “Bill told me you were thinking about if after graduation, he asked my help for math. We have talked before, Izzy. Sophomore year, you caught me from falling to my death after Tommy Lockeler, pushed me down the stairs. You had a Rolling stones shirt on, your hair a little shorter, guess I landed in your arms on a good day.”, I said, with tears in my eyes. “That’s you? No wonder you look familiar besides being a cheerleader. I’m sorry for being a dick, you did come out of your way for me.”, Izzy stood up from his bed. “It’s fine, Izzy. Why don’t you just bullshit it? I’m not feeling too great”, I sighed, walking to his desk for my bag. “Wait. Please don’t leave, I really need your help. I really liked the book and I’m sorta stuck.”, Izzy grabbed my wrist. 

“Okay. If I see you slacking I’m out, Isbelle”, I said. “Sit”, Izzy said, pushing his office chair to me. “Thanks”, I smiled. Izzy pushed a hair out of my face, “Sorry, it was bothering me”  I blushed, before looking away from him. Izzy chuckled, “Something you hiding from me, Judith?” “Tell you what, if you finish the essay, I’ll tell you what I’m hiding, deal?”, I bit my lip. “Deal”, Izzy smirked. Izzy’s brain was flowing and his hand was scribbling on the paper like he didn’t need me over. “Anndd done”, Izzy said, throwing his pencil in the cup he had on his desk. “Let me read it first”, I grabbed the two pages. “You lied”, Izzy whined. I scanned his paper looking for details of the play, if he had the right grammar, punctuation. “Looks good, Izzy. I’m proud”, I laid the paper down. “Thanks, now tell me why you were blushing?”, Izzy laid his hand on my jean clad thigh. “Do I have to?”, I whined. “I did my part, so it’s your turn, Channing”, Izzy said, not breaking his poker face. “Okay, don’t get mad. I have had a crush on since you caught me that day, at times I’m happy Tommy attempted to murder me that day. You happy?”, I stood from his chair and paced besides his bed. “Judith”, Izzy said.

“Hey, Judith, calm down. I have to tell you something too”, Izzy said, grabbing my hand. “What?”, I asked, scared to death he was gonna kick me out. “I like-”, “Hey dinner is ready”, Kevin opened his door, looking down at our hands. “I better get home, mom’s probably worried.”, I lied, she didn’t give a damn about me and my whereabouts. “Okay, I’ll walk you out”, Izzy said. We reached my car, “Well,thanks for the help. Guess I needed to be forced to write”, Izzy said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “No problem, I liked hanging out with you”, I smiled. Izzy nodded, “Be safe” “Sure thing. Night Izzy”, I said, unlocking my car door. Izzy stood until I turned at the stop sign from his house. I tried to skip school, to avoid the awkwardness between me and Izzy. He got really quiet after his brother barged in yesterday, at least he was nice enough to walk me to the car and waited for me to get on the main road again. 

I was headed to lunch but was really wanting to sneak out to my car and drive around for a while. Looking through the glass doors that lead to the front parking lot, I could hear my car whine for me to leave. “Fuck it”, I thought grasping the door and pushed it open. “Where do you think you’re going, missy?”, A deep male voice startled me. I turned around to see Izzy grinning. “Oh it’s just you. Come on, let’s ditch”, I smirked. Izzy nodded and opened the door. We ran down the stairs, to my car, laughing. “Why did you wanna skip? You have a good attendance record?”, Izzy asked, plopping into the passenger seat. “Just ready to leave, school was boring. I don’t have cheer practice today. You?”, I asked, starting the car. ‘Shattered’ The Rolling Stones played quietly. “Same reason as you, just fuck it. Didn’t take you as a Stones fan?”, Izzy smirked as I pulled out of the school parking lot and headed towards town. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me Izzy. My dog is named after Mick Jagger, remember?”, I smirked. Izzy nodded his head to the beat of the song, going through my cassette tape collection. 

We got out of my car and went to a pair of swings, Izzy groaned. “What’s the matter, afraid one of the stoners will catch you with the cheerleader?”, I smirked. “No, princess. Just haven’t swung since I was 9”, Izzy grumbled. “Suit yourself, Jeff”, I pushed my legs to swing. “You like cheerleading?”, Izzy asked. “It’s alright”, I said. Izzy lit a cigarette and watched me swing my legs back and forth. Izzy caught me as I slowed down, holding the chain, pulling me close to him. I looked in his hazel eyes, cigarette creeped on his breath. “After, I killed Kevin for bargin in on us last night. I got to thinking, we’re getting closer to graduation. I’m bailing this hoosier state, you’re probably going on to join a sorority at Purdue. I wanna tell you something”, Izzy said, breath fanning my neck. “What is it?”, I whispered. “I like you and wanna know if you’ll be my girl?”, Izzy nipped my bottom earlobe.  I pulled him into a kiss, holding his shoulders, “Thought you would never ask, Jeff” Izzy smiled down at me. “And I’m not going to college, Iz. I don’t have to pay to have friends, just so you know. Thinking about going to New York actually”, I whispered. “Wanna join me out west? Don’t go to New York, just cold as Indiana, baby”, Izzy held my waist. “I can do that”, I grinned, kissing his cheek. 

[freddiesaysalright]

Just Like a Woman - Part 11

A Roger Taylor x Reader Story

Summary: You and Roger were once in love when you were young. Only, he went on to be a rock star, and you went on to be a lawyer. Now, quite against your will, you’re representing him in his divorce. 

Word Count: 3.3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​, @someone-get-a-medic​, @bensrhapsody​, @deakyclicks​, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​, @minigranger​, @crazyweirdocalledfriday​, @the-moving-finger-writes​, @assembledherethevolunteers​, @rose-writes-prose​, @queenlover05​, @26-7-49​, @drowsebaby​, @moon-stars-soul​, @im-an-adult-ish​, @ixchel-9275​, @jennyggggrrr​, @zyanmaik​, @mypassionfortrash​, @a19103​, @madeinheavxn​, @beepbeephardy​, @rrogerchxrm​, @qweenly, @blisshemmings​, @seasidecrowbar​, @internationalkpoplova, @ellystone​, @takemetoneverland420​, @coffeexcigarette​, @lookuptotheskiesandsee​, @thatpunkmaximoff​, @angelkissys​, @rocknroll-stolemyass​, @simonedk​, @anotheronewritesthedust1​, @peterquillzblog, @mrfahrenhcit​, @joseph-mozzerella​, @theprettyandthereckless​, @nixfreak​, @johndeaconshands​, @rogerandhiscar​, @queenmaracasandlove​, @sunflower-ben​, @cubetriangle, @amy-brooklyn99​, @scorpiogemini, @kiainspace​, @itsabenthing​, @bookandband​, @makemeyourwife-loveofmylife​, @grazessa​, @borhapqueen92​, @theonsasheart​, @vektorivittu​, @chanti-frn, @brianssixpence​, @dancingcoolcat​, @xviiarez​, @irepookie​, @lnnuend0, @rogerxmeddows​, @vici-xx, @bellas2silly​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER! Just to clarify because of the way it ends, but there is still more to this story! It’s not over yet!

Warning(s): Brief description of violence that we’ve already heard

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7 Part 8  Part 9  Part 10

Part 11 here we go!!!

You walked into work the next day, whistling to yourself. Roger had to stop by his house and change before he would be there to go with you all to the courthouse for the last bit of the trial. Jane smirked at you.

“Good night?” she asked.

“Excellent, Jane, thanks for asking,” you replied, snatching your messages out of her hand, but still smiling.

She shook her head and chuckled as you closed the door to your office. Just as it shut, you heard a high-pitched, child-like giggle. You whipped around, scanning your office for the source of the noise, but couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary. You shrugged it off. It was probably just something from the main part of the office and you were too busy to think any more of it.

You gathered your things and headed for the conference room, humming now instead of whistling. Dominique smiled at you.

“You look great today, Y/N,” she said.

“Thank you, I feel great!” you replied brightly.

“Y/N,” Bill said as he and Roger entered the room. “You’re in a much better mood today.” He turned to Roger. “Well done, mate.”

Roger smiled. “Thanks, man.”

They shook hands.

You finally frowned. “Could you two not be gross?”

Dominique laughed. Bill took a seat beside her as Roger kissed your cheek in greeting. Bill decided to share the first draft of his closing. He would edit it more later after the trial depending on any new information that arose. You all approved of it, and then, you were off to court.

After the previous day, you were a bit nervous. Glen would be able to call more witnesses, and you were not prepared for any more surprises. Luckily, there didn’t appear to be any.

Glen stood up and called Nick to the stand. Dominique shrunk a little as she watched him walk up and take his oath before sitting down. Bill took her hand.

“Mr. Sully, tell us your account of the evening you and Ms. Beyrand went on your date,” Glen said.

“Well, it’s like she told you, we met at the bar, flirted, and then arranged to meet again,” Nick began. “I thought it was going well. Then she tells me she’s ready to go home, but I’ve been buying her drinks, and I think she’s telling me she’s ready to go home with me. So I offer to drive and we get in the car. I saw in her eyes that she wanted me to make a move, so I went for it. All of a sudden, she’s offended, and she hits me. I hit her back - I’m not proud of it - but she was so enraged, I feared for my own safety. There was a struggle and then I kicked her out of my car. If something happened to her after that, it’s not on me.”

“How do you account for your blood and hairs being on her dress?” Glen asked.

“It probably happened during the struggle,” Nick answered. “I’m not denying there was a confrontation.”

“Why do you think she’d identify you as her attacker if someone else put her in hospital?” Glen continued.

“I don’t really know, she was probably angry at me for how it went and saw it as an opportunity to get back at me,” Nick said. 

“So you would describe Ms. Beyrand as vindictive?” Glen went on.

“Objection,” Bill called out. 

“Sustained,” Judge Walsh agreed. “Counsel, keep your questions to what happened.”

“Of course, your honor,” Glen conceded. “As it happens, I have no further questions.”

He returned to his seat. Bill leaned over to you.

“You got this?” he whispered.

“I got this,” you shot back, standing up.

You strode over to the witness stand.

“Mr. Sully, how much can you bench press?” you asked.

“Objection!” Glen cried. “Relevance!”

“Counsel,” Judge Walsh said to you. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“I am, your honor, you’ll see,” you said.

“Overruled,” he said to Glen. Then he looked at you. “Don’t take too long.”

You nodded, then turned your attention back to Nick. “So? How much?”

He looked you up and down, a cocksure smirk on his lips. “About two of you.”

“I see,” you said with a grin. “And you’re a professional kickboxer, right?”

“I am,” he told you, straightening up a little taller.

“Think you could take on your lawyer?” you asked. “He’s a pretty big guy. Fit. Strong.”

“Oh, yeah, he’d be no problem,” he replied. 

“And what about my co-counsel?” you asked. “He’s about your size.”

“Also no problem,” he said confidently, glancing at Bill. “It’s easy when you’re up against someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

You heard Glen let out a quiet groan from behind you. You bit back a smirk.

“And you expect them,” you pointed to the jury. “To believe that you feared for your safety because of that little woman?” You pointed to Dominique.

Nick realized his mistake and the color drained from his face.

“I - well - hold on - it wasn’t -”

“Don’t bother answering, Mr. Sully, that last one was rhetorical,” you said. “No further questions.”

You turned on your heel to head back to your seat, but froze. In the aisle, between the rows of observers, stood a little boy. He was the spitting image of Roger, only with one distinction. He had your eyes. In your heart, you knew him. Only, you weren’t sure how you knew him. You stared at him, and he grinned back.

“Miss Y/L/N?” Judge Walsh’s voice took you out of your trance and the little boy vanished. “Miss Y/L/N, are you alright?”

You shook your head to clear it. You went to your seat and looked at him.

“Yes, your honor, I’m fine,” you replied, cheeks reddening as you felt the whole courtroom’s eyes on you. “Just...I thought I saw someone.”

His expression showed just how much he was questioning your sanity. The defense had no other witnesses to call, so you were released for a fifteen minute recess. You retired to the same chambers you had the day before. 

“Y/N, are you alright?” Roger asked. “What happened in there?”

You found yourself embarrassed to say. You didn’t want to seem crazy. But you were also with people you trusted.

“None of you saw the little boy?” you asked, looking at each of them.

“What little boy?” Dominique wondered.

“The boy!” you insisted. “He stood right in the aisle. He just stood there and then he...he…” you trailed off.

“He what?” Bill pressed.

“He vanished,” you admitted.

“Are you hallucinating?” he wondered.

“I - well - maybe!” you cried. “I dunno! But I saw him!”

“Okay, we don’t really have time to unpack this,” Dominique said. “Bill, are there any changes you’d like to make to your closing?”

He started describing what he wanted add, but you didn’t hear it. Roger’s eyes were trained on you. He was concerned, but you didn’t notice him either. You couldn’t stop thinking about that boy. Then you remembered the laugh you heard in your office. Were you going insane?

You shook your head again and focused on Bill. Before you knew it, it was time to return. Glen did his closing first.

“What you’re looking at here is a classic case of he said she said,” he began. “No one is denying that a physical altercation took place between Ms. Beyrand and Mr. Sully. What is in question is how much damage Mr. Sully actually inflicted. Did Mr. Sully strike her? Yes. But in defense of himself. Are we really so old fashioned that we believe a man can’t be abused by a woman? That a man can’t fear what a woman might do to him? Let’s not hold Ms. Beyrand to a double standard which only puts men at risk. She led him on, there was a misunderstanding, and that’s what happened. If someone else attacked Ms. Beyrand after her altercation with my client, then that’s somebody else’s business. But what you all need to understand is this: Mr. Sully defended himself from a person who was attacking him. And if you imprison him for it, we are heading down a very slippery slope.”

With that, he went to his seat. Bill got to his feet and walked over to the jury.

“Ladies and gentlemen, say it with me,” he began.

“Please,” the jury echoed back to him.

“Counsel!” Judge Walsh scolded. “The jury is to listen, not interact.”

“Certainly,” Bill agreed. He turned back to them. “The facts of this case are simple. You heard them from the doctors, the police officers, and from the victim herself. You saw the photos. The impression of the car door against her scalp. It’s not a case of he said she said because what she said is backed by evidence. All of which points to Mr. Sully violently assaulting Ms. Beyrand because she refused to have sex with him. As a society, we like to say that women have the right to say no. But they don’t, do they? Because look at what happens when they do. Dominique Beyrand was nearly killed for it. Thousands of women every year are not as fortunate to be able to take a shot at justice. And that’s what we’re looking for here. You have the facts before you. We’ve presented them clear as crystal. Now, it’s your turn to deliver justice. Not just for Dominique Beyrand. But for your mothers, sisters, and daughters. For every woman - every person, even - who has a right to say who puts their hands on their bodies. Justice. That’s all we’re asking for.”

With that, it was over. The jury went to deliberate. 

“This could be a while, right?” Dominique asked as you headed out to the lobby. 

“Yeah, it could be a few hours,” you told her. “But if they’re sensible, it shouldn’t take more than a couple hours.”

“Well, Roger and I wanted to thank you for all you two have done,” she replied. “By having you over for dinner.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you said, touched. “It’s our job, and we’re glad to help you.”

“I know, but we appreciate it,” she said. 

“Plus, we have an ulterior motive,” Roger added. “We’ve got to decorate the house for Christmas, and we could use the extra hands.”

It hit you suddenly that it was December. Christmas was in just a few weeks. You had been so busy with this case and your own thoughts that you’d forgotten. 

“It would mean a lot to us,” Dominique said. “And to the kids.”

You and Bill looked at each other and nodded. 

“We’ll come,” you said. 

Verity was thrilled to see everyone when you arrived at Roger’s house. Roger told her you were all going to decorate, and she agreed to help. So, she got the children.

Felix was excited to see you again and he quickly warmed up to Bill. Rory was entirely a mommy’s girl. Even though she could teeter around, she got fussy if she wasn’t in Dominique’s arms. You had never seen Bill look so soft as he watched Dominique with her daughter.

You all worked together to unpack the decorations and begin hanging them. They didn’t have a tree yet, but Roger assured you they would get one in another week. That way it would stay fresh. Dominique put on a Bing Crosby Christmas record and you all got to work. You were putting the stockings on the mantle when Roger approached you.

“Did you really see a little boy in the courtroom today?” he asked. “He looked real?”

“Yeah,” you said somberly. “It’s got me a bit frightened. He looked so solid. Very real.”

“But he vanished?” he questioned.

You nodded. “He did.”

“What did he look like?” he wondered.

“Quite a bit like you, actually,” you told him. “I dunno, maybe I’m cracking up after everything we’ve been going through.”

He chuckled. “I wouldn’t blame you in the slightest.”

You smiled at each other and finished the stockings. He helped you string lights around the garland and then place it on the mantle as well. Dom had a collection of Father Christmases that she put along the beam to keep the garland in place. It looked beautiful. 

Then you and Roger helped hang wreaths. Felix wanted to help so Roger hoisted him onto his shoulders. The boy giggled with delight. The sound made you stiffen. It was so like the laugh you heard in your office that morning.

“Y/N?” Roger asked, looking curiously at you. “You alright?”

You nodded, clearing your throat. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just anxious about this verdict.”

“Don’t worry too much,” he said. “Whatever happens now isn’t in your control.”

You nodded again, and he handed Felix a ribbon to tie around the wreath. You jumped in and showed Felix how to tie a pretty bow, then let him try it on his own. It was sloppy, but you left it to show you were proud of him.

“Look, Mum, I made a bow!” he called to Dominique.

“And what a beautiful bow it is, darling!” she praised, beaming at him.

“Well, done, Felix!” Roger added.

You high fived him as well and he looked most pleased with himself. 

Decorating was a welcome distraction from your worries. In a way, it felt like you were celebrating that you all had done this in the first place. You made it to trial, you tried an excellent case, and whatever way the jury decided, you were happy to have done your part for Dominique. She was glowing as she looked around at her friends and family. If not for the scar poking out from her hairline, you might not have thought anything happened to her at all. 

At one point, Roger handed Felix some mistletoe and walked over to you.

“Oh!” he cried dramatically, earning more giggles from his son. “Looks like we ran into each other under the mistletoe. You know what that means.”

He winked as you rolled your eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips, though.

“You are such an idiot,” you teased.

“Well, you owe this idiot a kiss,” he returned.

With a laugh, you obliged, leaning over to peck him on the lips.

Everyone laughed, sang, and got covered in glitter and pine needles as the house turned into a Christmas winter wonderland. You finally felt the spirit of the holiday. You were almost sad when it was completed because you were having such a wonderful time.

Luckily, the evening wasn’t over. Roger and Dom still wanted to make dinner, so you all herded into the kitchen. You took Rory and Felix crawled into Bill’s lap while the former couple got to work. Felix was animatedly talking to Bill about all the things he was asking Santa for, but Rory’s energy had depleted. She rested her head against your chest and closed her droopy eyes.

“This baby is tired,” you remarked, smiling. 

“Well, she’ll eat a bit before we put her to bed,” Dominique said. 

The children were fed first, with some assistance from you and Bill. Felix was truly taking advantage of all the attention he was getting. Rory was just tired and a little fussy. When they were done, Bill and Dom went to put them to bed. You and Roger started to prepare the wine.

“Y/N, I wanted to tell you just how much last night meant to me,” he said as you placed four glasses on the counter. “I really think things are just working out.”

“I do too,” you agreed with a grin. “Last night was incredible and it reassured me that we were meant to find each other again.”

He smiled and kissed you sweetly. 

“I also wanted to thank you again for taking this case,” he said. “No matter what happens, we are so grateful for everything.”

“Roger, please, we are just happy you trust us enough,” you told him. “Bill and I adore you and Dom. We’re your friends. And I think after tonight….we’re all kind of family.”

“A weird family,” he joked. 

“But a family all the same,” you insisted.

He kissed you again, and in it, you felt that he shared the sentiment.

Bill and Dominique returned, laughing softly together. You handed them each a glass of the freshly poured wine.

“They go down okay?” you asked.

“Perfectly,” Dominique said. “Felix always acts like he’s not sleepy, but the second his head hits the pillow, out go the lights.”

“Sounds like Roger,” you teased.

“I know, right?!” Dominique agreed.

You all chuckled. As Roger began retrieving things from the fridge for dinner, the phone rang. Verity picked it up on her way into the kitchen. You watched her expression shift to concern.

“Y/N, it’s for you,” she said. “It’s your assistant.”

You swept over to her and took the receiver. 

“Jane, what is it?” you asked.

“The jury’s back,” she said. “You’ve got to get to court.”

Your stomach dropped. “Thanks, we’ll be right there.”

You hung up. All eyes were on you. Bill looked at you with understanding.

“The jury’s back,” he said, not having to guess.

You nodded.

“Dinner will have to wait,” Roger said. “Let’s go.”

You all rushed to grab your things and headed back into town. 

The courtroom was empty now that it was late. Roger was the only person in the audience. You arrived after Glen and Nick were already seated. You noticed him and Roger exchange glares. 

You all stood when Judge Walsh entered and took his seat. Glen and Nick remained standing while the jury filed in. Once all the formalities were taken care of, Judge Walsh looked at the jury.

“Have you reached a verdict?” he asked.

The foreman - who was actually a woman - stood up. 

“We have, your honor,” she said.

“What say you?”

She unfolded the paper in her hand. You watched with bated breath. This was it. Had you done enough?

“In the matter of the people versus Sully, we the jury find the defendant, Nicholas David Sully, guilty…”

You didn’t hear the rest. You looked over at Dominique, but her face was already buried in Bill’s chest, and his arms were around her. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs. You turned around to see Roger, head in his hands, absolutely frozen. 

“Members of the jury, thank you for your service,” Judge Walsh said. “This court is adjourned.”

He slammed his gavel, and it felt like a wake up call. A burst of joy shot through you and you jumped out of your seat to hug Roger. He welcomed you into his arms as you embraced over the wall between you.

You felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Dominique, tears and makeup streaming down her cheeks, but the widest grin you had ever seen on her face.

“Thank you,” she choked out.

Your own eyes welled up with tears. You didn’t have words, so you pulled her into the hug. You yanked Bill in as well, and the four of you stood there, relieved and victorious. The sentencing would be in a few weeks, but you were already over the biggest hurdle. You felt a little bit of pride in yourself. It was your first ever criminal conviction.

“How about we celebrate?” Bill suggested. “Let’s have a drink at the bar before we go back for dinner?”

“That sounds perfect,” Dominique said.

She took his hand. You took Roger’s. All of you headed out to the bar. A few of your coworkers - including Jane - were already there, so you told them the good news. There was champagne to go around. You hardly drank any. You were too busy dancing with Roger. Dinner was forgotten. The whole evening was spent at the bar, toasting, dancing, and being with the person you loved more than life itself - Roger Meddows Taylor.

[painted-crow]

Secondary Toast Revolving Door, Part 2

On what it’s like when I burn Bird secondary

Usually, when I burn either Bird secondary or Badger secondary model, they’re down for weeks or months at a time. I know they’ll come back, which isn’t always true of burned Houses in general but that’s just how mine work. Right now Bird is having a minor upset and it’s been out for a few weeks; it was about to come back when life stress happened and smacked it down again. This time I can predict that it’ll be back in maybe two weeks when everything’s settled down, but usually it’s not that tidy—I don’t always know why it’s having problems or what to do to get it to recover. Usually I just wait it out.

The burned state looks different for Bird vs Badger, of course. I’m probably going to struggle with writing the Badger side, either because I’ve forgotten the details of what it looks/feels like or because it’s actually simpler. I lean towards the “I’ve forgotten” angle. My memory is very bad during depressive periods. (You’d think this would leave my brain goblins fewer cringey memories with which to taunt me at 4am, but no.)

But that doesn’t matter right now because today we’re talking about Bird.

Tipoffs I’ve burned Bird

Sometimes it’s hard to tell when you’ve burned one of your Houses. It doesn’t always have a clear start or end, and you might not notice the gradual slipping into exhaustion and lack of confidence in your House. Here are some things I catch myself doing or thinking when my Bird peaces out on me.

I start thinking I’m not good at things I’ve spent years studying.

I get a panicky feeling of resistance when I think about working on projects that wouldn’t normally give me problems.

I struggle with self-doubt about my ability to learn new skills.

This one’s complicated: the society I live in holds Bird up as the way it thinks intelligence should look. So, in burned-Bird!Paint’s mind, that makes it arrogant to assume that you're better at using Bird than others, because it suggests you think you're smarter (and thus better, because society says that too) than them. Therefore, if I’ve learned how to do something, my impulse is to assume that anyone could. Anything I’ve already learned is obviously easy, because I learned it, and so it isn’t rare or valuable.

Weird analysis paralysis cocktail: I feel perpetually unprepared to do stuff and too afraid to move forward, but I’ve also internalized the “you’re never going to feel ready so just start now” advice—which is supposed to spur you into action and probably works if you’re a Lion, but it just gives me something else to beat myself up about.

Sometimes Bird secondary starts feeling more like a toy than a tool that can actually be effective. If that's happening, using it feels kind of self-indulgent and not terribly useful--it seems good for entertainment, but not for anything else.

That last one is really fricking weird and it took me months to figure out what it was and put it into words. It’s obviously flawed—it’s circular logic sitting on top of societal prejudice—but when you’re depressed, the kind of clarity you need to verbalize and pick apart something that complicated is often nowhere to be found, especially when your perception in general is skewed due self-hatred.

I can’t do that “just start now” thing Lions do—it terrifies me. But that’s fine. Other people don’t casually pick up new skills or binge-read nonfiction or hoard resources like I do—maybe that’s intimidating to them—and that’s fine. Both approaches are useful and powerful, objectively, and philosophically I “should” be okay with owning my abilities. That’s harder than it looks on paper, though.

There’s one more.

The value of skills is subjective, circumstantial, and easy to underestimate.

I’m a jack-of-all-trades style Bird. Lots of things interest me. But every time you decide to invest in a new skill rather than continuing with an old one, you sort of start over. Not completely; some skills transfer and there’s a lot of value in having a range of knowledge, especially in terms of creativity.

Still, though: you enter each new field as a total noob, you stay long enough to become a kinda competent noob, and then when you’ve learned what you want and maybe built the thing you wanted to build, you leave. Rinse and repeat. Usually you don’t stay long enough to become super-skilled, and people in your community don’t specifically ask you for help.

…Until they need something other than the thing they specialize in, and you happen to know it. Suddenly you’re the expert in the room. You know how to get the project started. You know where to research, who to ask about advanced topics, what all the search keywords are, and where to find the supplies. Suddenly you're valuable, and maybe you're not used to feeling valuable. It can be kind of a jarring experience.

It's especially jarring when someone you know needs something and you're like, "oh I can take care of that, I spent six months studying how to do it and I have the resources already" and the other person gives you a look of deep skepticism and you try to convince them that no, really, it's not a big deal, you can have that done in a weekend or two if they give you the right information and... they don't believe you can do it, you guess. It's easy to misinterpret a "this sounds too good to be true" reaction for "I don't believe YOU can do it.”

My old draft had a note about how I should build myself a portfolio site to demonstrate stuff like this (except that my tastes develop faster than my actual skills in most fields, so I tend to dislike my own work and don't want to display it). But actually I’m wondering now if Badger secondary isn’t part of the problem. Sometimes I just volunteer to do stuff for people I only kinda know, without naming a motive or a price tag, and seen through that lens it’s hard to blame them for feeling awkward or skeptical about accepting. It’s not a big deal to you, but it is to them—too big to be just a favor. And then the people who do accept freely given help tend to take advantage of you… I guess I need to cultivate more Courtier Badger if I want to give my Bookkeeper Badger model stuff to do.

(Bonus bullet point: “I don’t know if I can really say my House is burned... it’s just not totally there right now? The stuff I’m dealing with isn’t THAT bad” is another tell that you’re burned. I’ve had to stop myself from writing that sort of thing several times over the course of this post. I’ll let myself bring it up for the opposite reason, though: if you’re thinking this, you may be underestimating the damage because you’ve forgotten what you’re like healthy. This goes for mental illness in general too. Don’t undermine your own experience.)

What I do instead

I’ve learned to be flexible and work around times when my Bird isn’t at 100%.

For example, this is why I have three novel projects running at once, with varying levels of complexity. The least complex of the three is new—I started it back in February, and working on that one instead of the others has let me stay productive and continue using Bird without pushing it past its limits. Plus it lets me keep making art, which as I’ve mentioned, is important to my general wellbeing.

If I’m able to section off my work like this and focus on the things I can do, and selectively procrastinate the ones I can’t (that aren’t super urgent), I’m usually fine—as long as I stay on top of my mental health enough for things to swing back around so I can catch up. It’s very, very difficult to recover if your needs aren’t being met.

I can be kind of a productive powerhouse when I can get my brain to actually process dopamine correctly (thanks, medication!) so if I can manage to work on something useful, I don’t always have to be too picky about what it is. That also means that if I can’t work on the things I’d normally use Bird to do (whether it’s burned or I’m just worn out), it’s a good excuse to catch up on more menial things like paperwork and laundry and whatnot. If I’ve let those pile up, dealing with them will improve my environment and my mental health and get Bird to recover faster.

What I shouldn’t do is continue to press on with my normal work, if I can avoid it. There have been times when people needed me to deliver the creative or technological thing I was using Bird to work on before it burned, and I had to push through and get it to them anyway, and it’s not a good situation for me.

*cue flashbacks to the three or four times that’s happened for months on end, dissociates for 10 minutes*

ugh okay brain can you not do that right now? trying to write a post here

Where was I? Oh, right. I was making a point.

Take the pressure off your burned House if you can.

I think when you burn one of your Houses, it's injured and you're actually worse at using it than people who just don't have it as one of their Houses. Say you're a bowling champion but your dominant wrist is broken. You can choose not to play at all until you recover, or you can try to play with your other hand but you're probably going to be worse at it than a lot of casual players, and that feels really bad because being good at this matters to you.

^ copied from the old draft of this post. I was going to write a smooth transition into that point, but it didn’t work and I’m not going to try to rewrite it and get “ERROR 500 INTERNAL SERVER ERROR” from my brain again.

In any case, this post has been sitting around for a week already and I should probably just publish it now. ^^;

[donghyuwus]

Renjun | Fortunate Events

pairing: renjun x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, tiny bit of angst and some heated stuff at the end (don’t worry nothing special)

warnings: none really excpet the makeout session at the end :)

words: 2011

authors note: hihi, hope this one does show up in the tags *gives tumblr an annoyed face* anyways the beginning of this has been in my drafts for a while and i got bored and bold so i decided to finish it today. hope u guys like it :)

disclaimer: english is not my first language so sorry for my spelling or grammar mistakes, i tried my best.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

You glanced over at Renjun trough the mirror, who was sitting at the end of your bed. Concentrated he looked at his fingers which he was playing with. A frown was placed on his forehead and his lips were sticking out in a pout. Quietly you chuckled at him while shaking your head.

“You know he isn’t the worst, why do you dislike him so much?” While waiting for an answer you returned to getting yourself ready. A few days ago you had been asked on a date by Lee Jeno. To your surprise actually. You didn’t quite have a crush on him or anything, you never really developed crushes anymore since kindergarten. Honestly you didn’t know why, so you just settled with the thought that your mind was too busy with other stuff instead of guys. But when Jeno asked you out you thought you had to give it a try. Jeno was nice and quite good-looking so why not give it a go right? However you found it weird that he asked you since you always thought he liked someone else. Honestly the whole school thought so. But oh well, things change, am I right?

Behind you you heard the boy sigh before he stood up and walked over only to stop right behind you. His eyes scanned your reflection in the mirror and you could swear he smiled for a split second, only to it being replaced by the pout right after. “I know. Jeno is nice and all, but you don’t even like him. For a fact you never liked anyone y/n.” Annoyed you stopped what you were doing and turned around to look him right in the eye. “Stop with saying that Ren, don’t you want me to be happy or anything?”

His big eyes stared at you and you let out a pissed huff. “You know, I’ve could have gone on so many dates but I didn’t. Always because you had something important which caused me to cancel it and rush over to you. Only to my surprise it not being that important after all.” With big steps you stomped over to your jacket. Just as you were about to leave you turned around and looked at him. “Now tell me Renjun, what are you gonna say this time to make me stay?”

You could see his eyes looking down defeated and deep inside you could feel your heart break seeing him hurt. But you were holding strong. A few seconds passed by and you could see him opening his mouth, only to it being closed again right after. You huffed once again and as you closed the door you could swear he said something but you were too worked up to hear it.

As expected you arrived there way too early. Not wanting to go into the cinema alone you decided to wait outside. First it started with a few minutes, but minutes turned into hours and soon you were almost freezing and hurt. Honestly you didn't expect Jeno not to come, he wasn't the type to let someone hanging like that. So with a sigh you started thinking about options to go home. The busses already stopped riding for the day so that wouldn't be a solution, besides that you had already spent all your money on getting here, not bringing more because Jeno told you he would give you a ride back. Walking home wouldn't be that smart because it was cold, almost dark and way too far. Immediately someone popped up in your head, but being the stubborn and petty idiot you were you ignored the thought and instead thought that walking would be a good idea.

Not even 10 minutes later you were starting to lose feeling in your hands because of the cold and you were getting a bit too paranoid knowing you were all alone in the dark, on an empty road. So eventually you gave up the battle against yourself and grabbed your phone. You dialled in his number and waited for him to pick up, witch didn't take long.

"Y/n? Are you okay? Why are you calling? Aren't you with Jeno?” His voice sounded worried and petty at the same time and you frowned, why did this kid hate Jeno that much? You shuffled around a bit before answering.

“Well,, uh,, my date stood me up. Can you please pick me up? I'm freezing to death here.” Not even a second later he asked where you were and without saying anything else he hung up. It didn't take him long to arrive and when he did you could see his face full of worries as soon as he stepped out of the car to open the door for you.

When he closed the door after sitting down himself a silence fell over the both of you. His eyes went to look at you. Renjun has stared at you numerous of times. All those times nothing would resolve of them. But this time you could feel yourself tension up. You didn't dare to look at him for some reason. Maybe you were afraid he was gonna scold you for going out with someone he didn't want you to and ending up like this. Or maybe he would be disappointed.

“I’m sorry.” You froze at his words. From everything that you had predicted, you hadn’t expected this. Why wasn’t he mad because you didn't listen to him? Your eyes met his and in the soft light that came from some lanterns Renjun looked more beautiful than ever and you held in your breath while looking at his face. You have seen his face so many times, with all different emotions displayed on them. But for some reason the one he displayed now was foreign to you. It gave you a weird feeling in your stomach and you quickly shook your head before turning your eyes to the road.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, “after all I should have listened. Look at me now I'm an ice cube." You chuckled at yourself quietly as you stared at your fingers. Soon after a silence fell over the both of you and the only noise heard was the engine of the car as it was still on to provide some heat.

"Hey Ren-" you turned your head to look at him, only to swallow all your words because of the closeness of his face. His eyes stared into yours before they went down to your lips. Never in your life had you felt the things you were feeling in that moment. Since when did Renjun make you this nervous? Why was he even this close? Why did you want him to press his lips against yours?

He seemed to read your mind and started leaning in as he slowly closed your eyes. You mirrored his moves.

Ring.

Your lips almost touching and your faces inches apart you shot up when your phone ringed. A sigh escaped out of the boy next to you when you answered.

A familiar voice on the other line began speaking: 'Hey it's Jeno, I'm so sorry for what happened today. It's a long story but basically my best friend needed me, it was an emergency. I'll make it up to you another time, I promise.' It was silent for a moment on your side of the line, processing his words. 'It's okay Jeno, really. Is everything okay with your friend?' 'Yeah, yeah he is alright now. Anyways I'll take you on another date to make it up to you, if you want to of course.' You fumbled your fingers, thinking of a way to say the thing you wanted to. Beside you Renjun was holding his breath and was completely still, you were sure he could hear what Jeno was saying.

'I'm sorry Jeno but I don't think I really want to. Today I realized that somebody who I used to perceive as just a friend, means a little more to me than just that. I think I like him.' It was quiet for a while and you were nervous, afraid that you had hurted him. While beside you Renjun was even stiller than before, did he die? You were almost sure your heart was beating a way out of your chest, nervous for how he would think of what you just confessed. 'That's totally fine y/n. If I'm gonna be totally honest I think I have feelings for someone who I saw as just a friend too. Haha I think that maybe this was meant to happen today. I hope everything works out with you and him. I wish you two the best.' 'Thanks Jeno, I wish the same for you.' 'Bye y/n.' 'Bye, bye.' And with that the conversation ended. You swallowed hard and put your phone back down in your purse. Too afraid to face the boy beside you, you stared outside of the window in front of you. It had started raining, you looked at the drops racing down the window.

'He likes you too.' Your head jolted in his direction. 'Who does?' You asked caught off guard by his sudden speaking. He rolled his eyes annoyed before he leaned forward and connected your lips with his. His hands cupping your now increasingly hot face. It felt like your heart stopped beating. He stopped after a good minute and moved his face to your ear. 'I do, silly.' As a whisper it came out, his lips touching your ear while saying the words. It felt like you were getting a fever, like you went crazy. Before you could respond, he had moved his head again and reconnected both of your lips. Now being much less gentle. One of his hands was still cupping your jawline and part of your cheek, while the other was now in your hair, rummaging trough it. Feeling like a dumb statue with your hands glued to your side, you decided you could use some action as well and so you put both your hands in his hair.

You had played with his hair before but not in this way. It felt different, everything did, like this was a whole new Renjun. You loved both versions of him but this one made you go absolutely nuts. His hair felt even more amazing than usual, soft and fluffy. His lips felt like they were made for yours. You could shoot yourself for not finding out sooner that this has been what you always wanted since you met Renjun, wanting to be more than friends. That's why you never truly liked anyone, why dates never happened a second time and why nobody made their way into your heart. It was because Renjun already had a place there and a big one too.

His tongue went across your lower lip, asking for permission, which you gave him. While he was exploring your mouth your hands traveled down his neck and under his shirt. You didn't know where you got to courage from but it was soon gone when Renjun stopped and grabbed your hands, removing them from his skin. He was smiling, looking insanely good. His lips red and plump from the kissing, his cheeks tinted red and his hair messy but oh so gorgeous. 'Not now baby. Maybe later.' A peck was placed on your cheek but you were honestly not paying much attention, still stuck on the name he just called you. You were sure you were the brightest tint of red you ever have been. While you were daydreaming he repositioned himself in his seat and started the car again. 'First let's get you something to eat. You must be starving.' Nodding your head you got yourself together and fixed your hair.

'So where are we going? McDonalds? KFC?' He looked over at you and you smirked. 'Your house.' A claugh escaped his mouth at your brave statement and he reached out to pinch your cheek before driving off.

'McDonalds it is.'

FIN

heya, if you liked this and would like to support me and my work consider buying me a kofi for 2 euro’s trough the link in the descripition, it would mean a lot to me! but don’t feel forced to of course, it’s totally optional <3

[thecrownnet]

Photo from left: Charles Dance, Erin Doherty, Helena Bonham Carter, Peter Morgan, Olivia Colman, Tobias Menzies and Josh O’Connor attend the premiere of The Crown and tribute to Peter Morgan at AFI Fest in Hollywood.BY ARAYA DIAZ/GETTY

'The Crown' Boss Reveals Why Meghan Markle and Prince Harry Are Off-Limits

The Hollywood Reporter Aug 18, 2020

Creator and showrunner Peter Morgan shares the unofficial feedback he gets from the royal family and why characters based on Prince Andrew and others won't be making an appearance in the Emmy-nominated series: "I'm much more comfortable writing about things that happened at least 20 years ago."

Peter Morgan was nearing the end of a lengthy shoot for the upcoming fourth season of Netflix's The Crown when the coronavirus took hold in the U.K., halting production. While he was ultimately able to wrap the season with what they had, he still lost a couple weeks of filming. "I can see where the gaps are, but I'm hoping that you won't," says the showrunner, who adds that he feels "lucky" that they were able to get as far as they did. In the wake of the show's nine Emmy nominations, including one for best drama series, the London-based Morgan shares what caused him to change his mind about the number of seasons the show will run, the unofficial feedback he gets from Buckingham Palace and why present-day royal scandals are off the table.

How did you celebrate your Emmy nominations?

I'm not sure I did celebrate, to be honest. I mean, I was relieved. I'm not sure that relief is a celebration. This just feels like such a strange time. Jumping around punching the air and lighting cigars feels like something I look forward to doing again, but at the moment, it just would feel weird to be doing that.

Having lost a couple weeks of filming on the upcoming season, is there any chance that you could reconvene everyone once it's considered safe to do so and get those final shots?

In order to hit the release schedule for season four, we needed to start editing and lock episodes, which we've been doing throughout this time. And everything takes much longer under these new social distancing regulations and rules, [even post-production.] So if we'd, for example, waited until next month, when a number of people are starting to film again in late August, beginning of September, to pick up these extra scenes, I think a) everyone would have been out of the rhythm of it and it would have felt very strange, and b) I think it would have compromised our post schedule. And we had to weigh up, "Is it worth it or not?" And, actually, that we're still able to hit our release schedule in November for seasonal four has been worth it.

It was announced recently that the fifth season, the one you're currently writing, won't be released until 2022. Was that a decision impacted by COVID or was that always the plan?

It's a normal schedule for us because what happens is, as you've noticed, we filmed The Crown in two season chunks, so we had Claire Foy for two seasons, we've now got Olivia Coleman for two seasons. And there was a gap year in there in which I frantically do a draft of all the scripts, and then I re-write the scripts and polish the scripts after that — but at least we have a roadmap of where we're going for the two seasons. And I said that there was no way that I could possibly do that and be showrunning the seasons if they were in production. You do need a gap year to get ahead with the writing.

This year, you said that the show was going to run five seasons instead of the expected six, but you recently reverted to the original plan. Why the change?

That's me being exhausted, and the truth is people have just been so supportive and so kind. They were so kind to go with me on the five-season version. That was an act of generosity because it was always pitched as being six seasons and always imagined to be that. And then I think they just looked at the state I was in, which is a classic showrunner look. You look slightly green and yellow and you have bags under your eyes, and you look at least 10 years older than you actually are. At that point, people say, "Just let the poor man out of his misery." But then in the course of meeting the actors, they were all furious they were only getting one season. (Laughs.) They were like, "Well, that's not fair. How come Claire Foy gets two and Olivia Colman gets two and I only get one?"

Are you writing that next season with COVID protocols in mind or are you hoping that the virus will be a thing of the past by the time you're in production again?

I think so. I'm writing it exactly as I wrote it before. I'm making no concessions whatsoever in terms of international locations, in terms of extras, in terms of size. If anything, the show's getting bigger. So I am absolutely banking on there being not just a vaccine but that the vaccine has had global dissemination by that point.

What was the most challenging scene for you to write last season?

If there isn't a challenging scene to get on paper in every episode, I'm not doing my job. If it doesn't feel to me like I'm climbing without a rope, then I don't see [the point]. I remember in season one when Claire Foy comes back to find her father dead, she cries when she sees his dead body. And I said to everybody then, "This is the first and the last time we're ever going to see the queen cry. She will never cry again. There'll be many times where we imagine she's crying, but no tears come." When you have the queen in scenes of extreme emotion, those scenes are very difficult to write because she's not a person of extreme emotionality. So you're constantly having to find ways to make the audience cry without, as it were, the queen crying. In other words, it's all about inability and restraint and being blocked, because she herself is blocked because it's wrapped up in this package of being the queen — and the queen is in itself an abstract concept rather than Elizabeth Windsor, who she is underneath. So any scenes that really push to that are always a real challenge.

You've meet with royal aides to brief them on what's to come in the show. How do they typically respond, and what do you hope to get out of those meetings?

I meet on an entirely informal and impersonal basis with a couple of people who used to work at the palace and who I imagine still have contacts with the palace. It ends up as one of those rather ridiculous conversations in which everybody is slightly tiptoeing and saying something other than what they mean, but you're still finding a way of getting some information out while at the same time everybody has the most important thing, which is deniability.

Do they ever come to you and say, "No, it didn't happen this way," or "That isn't accurate"?

Occasionally they might come back and say, "I enjoyed certain aspects of the season," and by that I know that he or she probably means other people enjoyed that. And then they'll say, "There were one or two things that I personally found disappointing," which probably means that somebody else found them disappointing.

Does that feedback influence how you write the show at all?

No, nor would they want it to. No one's trying to censor me. No one's ever tried to correct what I do or censor what I do. No one wants anything to do with each other. I don't want anything to do with the palace and the palace wants nothing to do with me — again, so that we all have the most important thing, which is that they can say, "I don't know what they think they're doing." And we can say, "We have no interest in making them happy." That's really important because different people have different attitudes. Some people could say, "Oh my god, it's outrageous what The Crown has got away with saying," and other people could say, "The Crown could have said it a lot worse." So depending on your perspective, if you are a rapid anti-monarchist then no matter how critical I am, it will never be critical enough. And if you are really staunch establishment monarchist, then just about everything I say is pure treason. You will never make those two extremes happy. And there's no point even trying to. I only write what I want to write.

You've said the show won't get into modern royal subjects like Meghan Markle or Prince Andrew. Why?

I just think you get so much more interesting [with time.] Meghan and Harry are in the middle of their journey and I don't know what their journey is or how it will end. One wishes some happiness, but I'm much more comfortable writing about things that happened at least 20 years ago. I sort of have in my head a 20 year rule. That is enough time and enough distance to really understand something, to understand its role, to understand its position, to understand its relevance. Often things that appear absolutely wildly important today are instantly forgotten, and other things have a habit of sticking around and proving to be historically very relevant and long lasting. I don't know where in the scheme of things Prince Andrew or indeed Meghan Markle or Harry will ever appear. We won't know, and you need time to stop something being journalistic. And so I don't want to write about them because to write about them would instantly make it journalistic. And there are plenty of journalists already writing about them. To be a dramatist, I think you need perspective and you need to also allow for the opportunity for metaphor. Once something has a metaphorical possibility, it can then become interesting. It's quite possible, for example, to tell the story of Harry and Meghan through analogy and metaphor, if that's what you want to do. Because there've been so many examples in the past, whether it's Wallis Simpson or Edward VII, or whether it's Diana and Prince Charles. There have been plenty of opportunities in the past where there have been marital complications. There've been wives that have been married into the Royal family that have felt unwelcome and that they don't fit in. So there are plenty of stories to tell without telling the story of Harry and Meghan.

Interview edited for length and clarity.